Tuesday, February 28, 2012
Like a book
People seem to think that they can read me. Some can, but those are few. I can actually only think of two people who can read me, my expressions, and know what's up. So many other people seem to think that they'll be able to figure me out. I see them searching but I keep it closed. Sure, on here I let it all out, but in person, you would never know what's actually going on. I'm like a vault, yes, that's an overused metaphor. But really, my friends who don't read my blog, the wiser majority, wouldn't know what I'm going through this week. They're so oblivious to how badly I don't want to be here, how much I am tempted to just crash into bed and never leave, how easy it would be for me to fall into some sort of depression and let myself get sucked into it. I'm not saying they're not attentive, that they don't pay attention, because they do, and they care for me, I can tell. But I cover everything up so easily with a few loud outbursts of laughter and a groggy smile. I am usually tired and happy, and it is so easy to fake. Yes, I'm tired, but that smile probably isn't deeply true-- not this week. I can smile at something funny, I'll giggle at anything, but the nagging of this week's crap doesn't leave the forefront of my mind. If you didn't know otherwise, you never would. And so people don't think twice about how I am. Why would they? I'm laughing-- across Cobo in fact, and I'm still going to Bible Study and hanging out with people. As long as I think someone might be watching, I play it up, I act like my normal self: loud, happy, and stupid. When they're not looking, when I'm walking down the hall and they're not around, the show's off, and if you didn't know me, you might be able to tell something's up. Nothing seems out of the ordinary.. and I won't let it. Because if I do, people who would care will care. And I don't want to burden them with that. I don't want my crappy week and weak heart to weigh down on their days. So they don't know, and unless they read this, they won't know. And then I deal with it on my own when I really just wish I could accept the embrace and let them love me and care for me. And that's selfish.. people would say it's not selfish, and maybe it's not, but making someone else have to deal with what's going on inside my head and my heart just doesn't seem fair.
Monday, February 27, 2012
Didn't think it would come so soon
So I made my friends stop their productive lives to go waste time with me tonight. I said I felt socially deprived and knew that this week would be hectic or I would be out of town for most of it, so I wanted to just chill before it got too crazy. Lies. I'm such a liar. But I was fooling myself at first. I really didn't know why I felt so needy, so those are the reasons I came up with. Now I think I figured it out. And I'm getting it out of the way before it gets worse. I would've put it off, denied it, buried it, tried to forget it, and then fallen apart. I've heard that that's not exactly healthy, so I guess I've brought myself here.. where I told you I would do this. I'm dealing with crap, and here it goes.
The crap I talked about at the beginning. Not going home. I think it started when this semester started taking it's toll on me. I have realized that my classes are more, harder, and longer this semester. I'm doing more outside of class, and more things are going wrong with my body than I can count, and though I'm learning how to balance it, it won't ever stop being tiring. And it's wearing me out, it's taking every ounce of energy and at the end of the day I feel so empty of any desire to move. I don't feel like I have energy at the end of the day to pray, and I thank God that the Spirit intercedes for me when I can't, but I'm not okay feeling that way everyday. So that started this dealing with round. I'm just tired, and that is heavy on me emotionally. Second, I haven't talked to my parents, really talked to them in too long. I've had little conversations on skype recently, but I haven't really just sat down and talked to them. I honestly don't even need to talk to them. I wish I could just have my skype video open to my dad reading the newspaper and I could sit at my desk and work on something and just know that he's there, a continent away, but that I can talk to him. I want to come in from class and stand beside my mother in the kitchen and just talk. So I miss my parents, I miss talking to them. It's not like I sit in my room with all this time and just forget to get on skype.. I never have more than an hour, if that, to sit and talk to them, without having to be somewhere soon after. My schedule is killing me, and it's not even March yet.
I've been trying to swim as much as possible recently. I love swimming, I love the feeling of sore arms and worn muscles, I love water. But I think I've been trying to swim so much because I'm just trying to escape that hectic schedule I've run into. I think I've been trying to get away from anything else that would trigger my homesick heart and swimming puts my in a place where I don't have to think. I swim, my body goes into automatic, and when I realize it, I'm going as fast as my weak body will let me along the lanes and the life guard is looking at me like I'm crazy because I look like an absolute idiot. But swimming is something that doesn't connect back to Colombia with memories, but I think I feel more at home when I swim. I swam some with my mom in Colombia, even some at Union when we spent a year in Jackson for furlough. It reminds me of mom, but it doesn't trigger sadness. It let's me escape all of that and just swim. It let's me be, let's me not think, not process, just put it off, let it out with the intensity of my strokes and the energy I'm putting into moving.
I've skyped a few friends from back home recently, and I realized how long it had been since I talked to them when I had to generalize something that had happened a month before. These are my two best friends, and I felt distance between us, and I'm not just talking about physical. I cannot stand that. This is what I fear most about not being home-- losing my friendships, letting them fade. It kills me that I don't feel like my schedule allows time for me to sit and just talk with my best friends as if we were sitting together on the same couch, because it doesn't even give me that time for my parents. I miss them and our stupid bickering over my over-analyzing, and their fact-of-life statements and everything else. I feel like I'm missing out on so much of their lives, and I hate it. I absolutely hate it.
"Everyone" went home this weekend, or at least that's what I've been hearing. I am seriously so happy for the people that spent a great weekend at home with their families, but I wish I could say the same. Going home for the weekend will never be an option, and that just comes with the missionary kid life, and I'm over it, but it's just a crappy reminder when everyone else does go home for the weekend. When a friend goes home to be with his mother before and after surgery to visit and spend time with her, and my family goes through so much medical crap and I never have that option, it feels like a slap in the face "good for them, but never for you Sierra.. hope nothing ever goes seriously wrong with one of your parents.. because you're too far to ever get there in time." I know that seems a little dramatic, but honestly, my family has so many medical problems, its a scary possibility.
Another, though I keep telling myself that December will be here soon enough, I know it won't. I know it will take a lifetime and a half before I'm back in Colombia. One of my friends who lives here has the chance to go down for a week next week to help out on a missions trip, and I am so happy that she gets to go for even just a week, but I am so jealous. She tells me I can't say it'll be December before I'm home, because that's what she thought and all of a sudden she'll be there next week. But she's got some ridiculous connections and sketchy ways about getting places (totally joking, dear) and I just don't have those chance to go home like she does. People are still surprised that it will be that long before I'm home, and I just shrug it off with "I've got to work this summer so that I can be there for Christmas" but every time it comes up, I feel it. Somewhere inside it hurts, and sometimes I don't realize it, because I numb it, I phase it out and act as if it's okay. But it's not, and so it builds up to nights like tonight. My Monday schedule killed me and it didn't help that we talked about Colombia for a good 15 minutes in my night class. Of course most of it was about drugs and violence, but any other small thing tugged at my heart. I was so excited to be talking about Colombia, but it was killing me inside. So when my day ended at 10, I didn't want to sit in my room and ignore it. I wanted something familiar-- I wanted people who didn't have to talk about anything that would get my heart going but who just being around could ease me, get my mind off of it. They didn't know I lied to them, they didn't know I would come home and get slapped in the face with a wave of emotion and cry, they didn't know how crappy I felt inside, how bad I just want to be home, but they didn't have to. Of course they know now, because they have no lives and read about my lame life, but that's okay. I said I would deal on here.. and I believe this is the first real "dealing" I've done in a while. It's not been to this extent since January. I didn't think it would take this long, but again, I didn't think it would come so soon.
and I can't stand the thought of summer coming. I love summer in all the sunshine, freedom, and all that jazz. But I pray to God, I pray that I am too busy to think about how much I miss home, because at that point I'll have been away from home longer than ever before and that's just not cool.
The crap I talked about at the beginning. Not going home. I think it started when this semester started taking it's toll on me. I have realized that my classes are more, harder, and longer this semester. I'm doing more outside of class, and more things are going wrong with my body than I can count, and though I'm learning how to balance it, it won't ever stop being tiring. And it's wearing me out, it's taking every ounce of energy and at the end of the day I feel so empty of any desire to move. I don't feel like I have energy at the end of the day to pray, and I thank God that the Spirit intercedes for me when I can't, but I'm not okay feeling that way everyday. So that started this dealing with round. I'm just tired, and that is heavy on me emotionally. Second, I haven't talked to my parents, really talked to them in too long. I've had little conversations on skype recently, but I haven't really just sat down and talked to them. I honestly don't even need to talk to them. I wish I could just have my skype video open to my dad reading the newspaper and I could sit at my desk and work on something and just know that he's there, a continent away, but that I can talk to him. I want to come in from class and stand beside my mother in the kitchen and just talk. So I miss my parents, I miss talking to them. It's not like I sit in my room with all this time and just forget to get on skype.. I never have more than an hour, if that, to sit and talk to them, without having to be somewhere soon after. My schedule is killing me, and it's not even March yet.
I've been trying to swim as much as possible recently. I love swimming, I love the feeling of sore arms and worn muscles, I love water. But I think I've been trying to swim so much because I'm just trying to escape that hectic schedule I've run into. I think I've been trying to get away from anything else that would trigger my homesick heart and swimming puts my in a place where I don't have to think. I swim, my body goes into automatic, and when I realize it, I'm going as fast as my weak body will let me along the lanes and the life guard is looking at me like I'm crazy because I look like an absolute idiot. But swimming is something that doesn't connect back to Colombia with memories, but I think I feel more at home when I swim. I swam some with my mom in Colombia, even some at Union when we spent a year in Jackson for furlough. It reminds me of mom, but it doesn't trigger sadness. It let's me escape all of that and just swim. It let's me be, let's me not think, not process, just put it off, let it out with the intensity of my strokes and the energy I'm putting into moving.
I've skyped a few friends from back home recently, and I realized how long it had been since I talked to them when I had to generalize something that had happened a month before. These are my two best friends, and I felt distance between us, and I'm not just talking about physical. I cannot stand that. This is what I fear most about not being home-- losing my friendships, letting them fade. It kills me that I don't feel like my schedule allows time for me to sit and just talk with my best friends as if we were sitting together on the same couch, because it doesn't even give me that time for my parents. I miss them and our stupid bickering over my over-analyzing, and their fact-of-life statements and everything else. I feel like I'm missing out on so much of their lives, and I hate it. I absolutely hate it.
"Everyone" went home this weekend, or at least that's what I've been hearing. I am seriously so happy for the people that spent a great weekend at home with their families, but I wish I could say the same. Going home for the weekend will never be an option, and that just comes with the missionary kid life, and I'm over it, but it's just a crappy reminder when everyone else does go home for the weekend. When a friend goes home to be with his mother before and after surgery to visit and spend time with her, and my family goes through so much medical crap and I never have that option, it feels like a slap in the face "good for them, but never for you Sierra.. hope nothing ever goes seriously wrong with one of your parents.. because you're too far to ever get there in time." I know that seems a little dramatic, but honestly, my family has so many medical problems, its a scary possibility.
Another, though I keep telling myself that December will be here soon enough, I know it won't. I know it will take a lifetime and a half before I'm back in Colombia. One of my friends who lives here has the chance to go down for a week next week to help out on a missions trip, and I am so happy that she gets to go for even just a week, but I am so jealous. She tells me I can't say it'll be December before I'm home, because that's what she thought and all of a sudden she'll be there next week. But she's got some ridiculous connections and sketchy ways about getting places (totally joking, dear) and I just don't have those chance to go home like she does. People are still surprised that it will be that long before I'm home, and I just shrug it off with "I've got to work this summer so that I can be there for Christmas" but every time it comes up, I feel it. Somewhere inside it hurts, and sometimes I don't realize it, because I numb it, I phase it out and act as if it's okay. But it's not, and so it builds up to nights like tonight. My Monday schedule killed me and it didn't help that we talked about Colombia for a good 15 minutes in my night class. Of course most of it was about drugs and violence, but any other small thing tugged at my heart. I was so excited to be talking about Colombia, but it was killing me inside. So when my day ended at 10, I didn't want to sit in my room and ignore it. I wanted something familiar-- I wanted people who didn't have to talk about anything that would get my heart going but who just being around could ease me, get my mind off of it. They didn't know I lied to them, they didn't know I would come home and get slapped in the face with a wave of emotion and cry, they didn't know how crappy I felt inside, how bad I just want to be home, but they didn't have to. Of course they know now, because they have no lives and read about my lame life, but that's okay. I said I would deal on here.. and I believe this is the first real "dealing" I've done in a while. It's not been to this extent since January. I didn't think it would take this long, but again, I didn't think it would come so soon.
and I can't stand the thought of summer coming. I love summer in all the sunshine, freedom, and all that jazz. But I pray to God, I pray that I am too busy to think about how much I miss home, because at that point I'll have been away from home longer than ever before and that's just not cool.
marks unaccounted for
I will always have at least one bruise somewhere on my body.. at all times. Sometimes I know where they've come from, but most of the time I have no idea where I got them. Right now I have an interesting bruise on the inside of my leg and one above each knee, none of which I can explain. I always have at least one on either shin, also unaccounted for. Today I acquired a new, very lovely bruise on my already hurt ankle. I was pulling myself out of the pool after catching a swim between classes and my foot caught on the edge of the pool. When I got out I noticed a chunk of flesh from my big toe was gone and replaced with a nice gush of blood that kept coming for about 20 minutes and which is now covered with a cute little Obi-Wan band-aid that Anna Loi gave me. Along with my new flesh wound was a painful blue bump on the top of my ankle. Something in there got hit, popped, and is now a nice shade of bright blue. At least I can tell you how that one happened. This kind of bruise wouldn't really bother me except for the fact that the whole foot has been bugging me for a good 3 weeks now. I officially have tendonitis.. and it hurts like a muffin-eater to walk on it if I don't take my doctor-approved meds. From the top of my big toe up to my ankle, right where my new bruised is placed, is on fire half the time. The doctor said to try to stay off it, ice it and start physical therapy to fix the damage I've already done. I've bought ice trays, but they sit empty on the kitchen shelf. Stay off my feet.. on a campus college... not happening. Physical therapy I have succeeded at-- second session tomorrow morning, though I've not been the best at keeping up with my homework. Aand I'm really bad about taking medication.. and so I wonder why the pain persists. I'm such a bright person.
And the scars I have.. so many that I do not have stories to tell about. Maybe two.. I can tell you two stories.. if that. I have a big one on my right knee that I attained on a middle school retreat. That one came with a concussion, package deal! We were playing some stupid game and I was running across some kind of court with a huge bouncy ball, two girls on either side of me ran into me, the ball went flying and so did I. I skidded across the asphalt and finally stopped, turned on my back and everything was black and spinning. Scrapes along the side of my face, my hands and arm, and a nice bloody gash on my knee. What a site to see, an even more delusional Sierra than usual.
The other one I can tell, and I'm not sure it really counts as a scar, is from this summer. I say I'm not sure whether it counts as a scar because its just a dark spot on the inside of my right foot.. so I guess it kind of is a scar..? We were riding horses in the sand dunes of Peru.. yes, it was amazing. My horse was going a little too fast down the dunes, and as we turned to go up the next one, his knees buckled and I was gone. In the process of me falling off the horse he kicked me in the foot and then fell on top of the right side of my body. Luckily my back had been killing me the few days before and I was already on some pretty heavy pain killers, so it didn't seem as bad as it was when it happened. The spot where he kicked me, where pain was shooting through for a few days is where he left his mark, the little shadow of a scar. There was internal scarring--if that even makes sense-- inside my right leg for a few months.
Other scars I have are all over my legs-- some of the mysterious bruises have actually left scars, somehow. I guess I do have another scar, mostly faded now. It was quite prominent for a few years tho. I backed into a radiator one summer in Ecuador and had three fat lines on my calf burnt into my flesh, what a great feeling. I guess a few of the scars I've had can be proof of some of the places I've been, so I guess that's cool. There are several tiny marks that tell of the couple of times that I've ventured into the wild and dangerous Amazon jungle where bugs of all sorts liked to take a little flesh and blood from me (please note sarcasm, I am simply appeasing those who have a certain image of Colombia).
I've come to realize that the bruises that I cannot explain just come from my clumsiness. Most people go through a clumsy stage in middle school, maybe even into high-school; it's a phase, you get over it. I have no hope of getting over it because I know that my mom has never gotten over it. Clumsiness is not a stage in life, it's a way of life for my mother and I. We have two left feet and can't make sense of the spaces we're in. I remember one morning in high-school my mother came up to my room on the third floor to wake me up for school and as she left my room and started walking down the spiral staircase she somehow fell and ended up face down, legs above her, moaning. It was a miracle she didn't break both her legs, they were just badly bruised, but seriously, how do you even achieve to fall that way? She has serious skill.
And the scars I have.. so many that I do not have stories to tell about. Maybe two.. I can tell you two stories.. if that. I have a big one on my right knee that I attained on a middle school retreat. That one came with a concussion, package deal! We were playing some stupid game and I was running across some kind of court with a huge bouncy ball, two girls on either side of me ran into me, the ball went flying and so did I. I skidded across the asphalt and finally stopped, turned on my back and everything was black and spinning. Scrapes along the side of my face, my hands and arm, and a nice bloody gash on my knee. What a site to see, an even more delusional Sierra than usual.
The other one I can tell, and I'm not sure it really counts as a scar, is from this summer. I say I'm not sure whether it counts as a scar because its just a dark spot on the inside of my right foot.. so I guess it kind of is a scar..? We were riding horses in the sand dunes of Peru.. yes, it was amazing. My horse was going a little too fast down the dunes, and as we turned to go up the next one, his knees buckled and I was gone. In the process of me falling off the horse he kicked me in the foot and then fell on top of the right side of my body. Luckily my back had been killing me the few days before and I was already on some pretty heavy pain killers, so it didn't seem as bad as it was when it happened. The spot where he kicked me, where pain was shooting through for a few days is where he left his mark, the little shadow of a scar. There was internal scarring--if that even makes sense-- inside my right leg for a few months.
Other scars I have are all over my legs-- some of the mysterious bruises have actually left scars, somehow. I guess I do have another scar, mostly faded now. It was quite prominent for a few years tho. I backed into a radiator one summer in Ecuador and had three fat lines on my calf burnt into my flesh, what a great feeling. I guess a few of the scars I've had can be proof of some of the places I've been, so I guess that's cool. There are several tiny marks that tell of the couple of times that I've ventured into the wild and dangerous Amazon jungle where bugs of all sorts liked to take a little flesh and blood from me (please note sarcasm, I am simply appeasing those who have a certain image of Colombia).
I've come to realize that the bruises that I cannot explain just come from my clumsiness. Most people go through a clumsy stage in middle school, maybe even into high-school; it's a phase, you get over it. I have no hope of getting over it because I know that my mom has never gotten over it. Clumsiness is not a stage in life, it's a way of life for my mother and I. We have two left feet and can't make sense of the spaces we're in. I remember one morning in high-school my mother came up to my room on the third floor to wake me up for school and as she left my room and started walking down the spiral staircase she somehow fell and ended up face down, legs above her, moaning. It was a miracle she didn't break both her legs, they were just badly bruised, but seriously, how do you even achieve to fall that way? She has serious skill.
Thursday, February 23, 2012
Not enough love to go around?
I love people-- we don't really need to go into this, because if you've been keeping up, you'll know that I much rather be with, invest in, love, and goof off with people than most anything else. And I love so many people. I've come to realize that Union happens to have a lot of really awesome people. Problem: I want to love, hang out with, invest in, and goof off with all of them; there are more people than I have time. And to top it all off, you never stop meeting all these great people at Union. It's like a never-ending flow of greatness that I just want to always plunge into. And I want to get to know every single one of those great people to their very core- because I know it would be so worth it. I would see so much more about how amazing they are and love them all so much more. I want to listen to their stories and have talks that mean something; I want to know these people, every single one of them. But I can't. I can't listen to every story intently and invest so much in every one of these people-- there are too many people. So I find myself trying to juggle 35 friendships and I have great hopes for all of them. I want to really know all 35 of these people and build amazing relationships with them.
If I could really do this, that would have to be all I did. But I am also a student, a daughter, a club member, and part of the body of Christ that is the church. These other things take up quite a bit of my time, probably most of it actually. So with what's left of my days, those few hours, I try to fit 35 people into it. Now this doesn't work, because I find myself working so hard to keep up all 35 friendships and realizing that soon enough I'm only able to give a small fraction of what I should be. So I give 35 20% of me, because I want to know all 35 people. But now the number's gone up to 40, so I'm really giving a little less to each one. And I happen to forget a couple people, and so I have a good lunch date with them. And then I am exhausted-- physically, emotionally, and spiritually, because God has become one of the 40, instead of the One above the 40. Some of the 40 people I am trying to get to know aren't responding to my efforts, and that breaks the camel's back. I am worn out and juggling 40 semi-shallow friendships that are struggling to survive the limits of time and humanity. I can't take it anymore.
And then I remember that, unlike popular belief, I am not Super Sierra. I am trapped in the body of a mere mortal, and so am limited by time and my physical need for rest and balance. And I have to make a choice. First I have to pull God out of those 40 and set Him above. Then I have to decide who's going to make the cut-- who's going to be a part of a the few that I will be able to invest in and love with every part of me, not just fractions. And that number cannot be anywhere near 40. I can only really know a handful of people, if that. I can love and know well maybe a dozen, but I still won't be able to spend as much time as I'd like to getting to know them. So I choose, somewhat consciously, who I will invest in, who I will spend time loving and being with. And it's great when they're willing to do the same. And it stinks big time when they don't see it that way, and I get frustrated and feel like I've been wasting my time giving to these people when they're not willing to let me know them. But I choose to love them, through their rejection and back, in hopes that one day they'll open up. Maybe they won't let me get close, so I'll back off, but I will love them, I will not give up on them.
And I feel like I have it under control. And then more people come into the picture.. and the people I've chosen to love become another on the list of many.. and I can feel it. And I start the process over. And it's shaping in me a love for these people, whether I can invest in them or not. I still want the friendships with those I have come to know or wish to know, but I can't keep them to the same extent or intensity, I have to make a little time here and there every once in a while, to let them know I haven't forgotten about them. And there are people that come in and out with the seasons, and there are those that stick all year round, but we have to fight for those. We have to bite and beat time to keep these couple friendships going, because to let them fade would be telling them they never made that big a part in our lives, and that would be a lie. So when people say that all their friendships are seasonal, I hear them say that they're not willing to fight, that none of their friendships meant enough to fight for them. I don't think I can believe that, and I think they'll regret letting those friendships fade, because they knew each other.
My friends of today make up a weird group of individuals that I love to death. I've chosen to spend these days with them, and I hope they can choose the same for me. If they don't, I will keep loving them and I will fight to keep them. Some I don't know as well as I'd like to, and I'm waiting for them to let me know them. But I have decided that my days will be well spent getting to know these people that mean something to me. I want to mean something to them on the day that we part.
If I could really do this, that would have to be all I did. But I am also a student, a daughter, a club member, and part of the body of Christ that is the church. These other things take up quite a bit of my time, probably most of it actually. So with what's left of my days, those few hours, I try to fit 35 people into it. Now this doesn't work, because I find myself working so hard to keep up all 35 friendships and realizing that soon enough I'm only able to give a small fraction of what I should be. So I give 35 20% of me, because I want to know all 35 people. But now the number's gone up to 40, so I'm really giving a little less to each one. And I happen to forget a couple people, and so I have a good lunch date with them. And then I am exhausted-- physically, emotionally, and spiritually, because God has become one of the 40, instead of the One above the 40. Some of the 40 people I am trying to get to know aren't responding to my efforts, and that breaks the camel's back. I am worn out and juggling 40 semi-shallow friendships that are struggling to survive the limits of time and humanity. I can't take it anymore.
And then I remember that, unlike popular belief, I am not Super Sierra. I am trapped in the body of a mere mortal, and so am limited by time and my physical need for rest and balance. And I have to make a choice. First I have to pull God out of those 40 and set Him above. Then I have to decide who's going to make the cut-- who's going to be a part of a the few that I will be able to invest in and love with every part of me, not just fractions. And that number cannot be anywhere near 40. I can only really know a handful of people, if that. I can love and know well maybe a dozen, but I still won't be able to spend as much time as I'd like to getting to know them. So I choose, somewhat consciously, who I will invest in, who I will spend time loving and being with. And it's great when they're willing to do the same. And it stinks big time when they don't see it that way, and I get frustrated and feel like I've been wasting my time giving to these people when they're not willing to let me know them. But I choose to love them, through their rejection and back, in hopes that one day they'll open up. Maybe they won't let me get close, so I'll back off, but I will love them, I will not give up on them.
And I feel like I have it under control. And then more people come into the picture.. and the people I've chosen to love become another on the list of many.. and I can feel it. And I start the process over. And it's shaping in me a love for these people, whether I can invest in them or not. I still want the friendships with those I have come to know or wish to know, but I can't keep them to the same extent or intensity, I have to make a little time here and there every once in a while, to let them know I haven't forgotten about them. And there are people that come in and out with the seasons, and there are those that stick all year round, but we have to fight for those. We have to bite and beat time to keep these couple friendships going, because to let them fade would be telling them they never made that big a part in our lives, and that would be a lie. So when people say that all their friendships are seasonal, I hear them say that they're not willing to fight, that none of their friendships meant enough to fight for them. I don't think I can believe that, and I think they'll regret letting those friendships fade, because they knew each other.
My friends of today make up a weird group of individuals that I love to death. I've chosen to spend these days with them, and I hope they can choose the same for me. If they don't, I will keep loving them and I will fight to keep them. Some I don't know as well as I'd like to, and I'm waiting for them to let me know them. But I have decided that my days will be well spent getting to know these people that mean something to me. I want to mean something to them on the day that we part.
Saturday, February 18, 2012
Bad Habits
I've got quite a few bad habits. And I've never been very good at getting rid of these bad habits. They've stuck with me mostly because I haven't fought enough to get rid of them, or once I started getting over them, something happened and I fell right back into them. The ones I can think of at the top of my head are
1. I bite my nails- I know, gross. I don't know why I do this, maybe it's a nervous habit. Being still freaks me out sometimes, so I usually go to tapping my foot, rubbing my leg or biting my nails. I don't know if I'd go as far as to say that it's a "deeply rooted psychological issue" that I have to resolve, but I've never been able to stop. Half the time I am doing it unconsciously and by the time I realize it, all progress is gone and we're back to square one.
2. I put things off. I don't take advantage of the time I have, and I leave things till the last minute. When time comes to do the work, something comes up and I end up having one too many all-nighters. I can't seem to spend the time at hand, whether just an hour or so to go ahead and finish my reading, and I end up with 6 hours of work to do with only 3 hours to do it. This is something I can and will fix, someday-- tho I am not sure I will be victorious soon enough. But I'll have to just make that decision every time it comes around to it.
3. I overbook myself. I tell everyone yes and find that I end up only giving each of them a small part of what they deserve. I decide that since each of the events that's going down start at different times, I can spend a little time at each one of these. So I spend 30 minutes having dinner with one group of friends, an hour at someone's board game night, another 30 minutes hanging out with friends who are having dinner together-though I've already eaten, and then being picked up early to spend the rest of my night and maybe part of the next day with the friends that replace my sleep and steal my sanity. I burnt myself out in high-school when I tried doing this with volleyball, spring play, Student Council, creative outreach, SSLT, and tutoring. A few other random things were thrown into that group and I ran on pure adrenaline for the last 3 months of high-school (I literally slept at least 15 hours every night of the first week after graduation).
4. I put the important stuff on the back burner. I get reminded of the urgency or absolute necessity of something in my life, but I don't put it into practice and when things start getting messy it takes me a long time to remember why things went wrong. I'm quite the forgetful person.
5. I'll do just about anything for you if you ask me to. Sometimes this means I get taken advantage of and used, but sometimes it's okay. This is something that is going to have to be hashed out on a later date.
6. I compare myself to everyone else.. in every possible aspect of life. I put everything about me under the microscope and I find myself looking at others and then me, as if we should somehow match up. I compare what I look like to how others look like. I compare my friendships with those of others. I compare my habits. I compare my place in a group of friends. I compare the way I carry myself with others. I compare the way I live my daily life. I compare people's perceptions about me with mine about them. And when I fall short in my own eyes, which happens to be consistently, I beat up on myself for being such a loser. There's always something to change. Either I need to be more approachable, or I need to be less obnoxious. I need to be more of a quiet person. I need to be a better friend. I need to be that person. I need to not be me. And I ask myself why I can't seem to develop the kinds of friendship with a specific person over months that I see built in weeks by another person. I ask why I'm not the person they're willing to invest in. I ask why I can't keep my mouth shut when all that is coming out of it is stupid immature ranting and laughter. I ask why I can't seem to be like them and be me.
I'm sure I have many more bad habits, but it would take a while to pull them all out of the closet. So for now, there's a few of my best qualities.
1. I bite my nails- I know, gross. I don't know why I do this, maybe it's a nervous habit. Being still freaks me out sometimes, so I usually go to tapping my foot, rubbing my leg or biting my nails. I don't know if I'd go as far as to say that it's a "deeply rooted psychological issue" that I have to resolve, but I've never been able to stop. Half the time I am doing it unconsciously and by the time I realize it, all progress is gone and we're back to square one.
2. I put things off. I don't take advantage of the time I have, and I leave things till the last minute. When time comes to do the work, something comes up and I end up having one too many all-nighters. I can't seem to spend the time at hand, whether just an hour or so to go ahead and finish my reading, and I end up with 6 hours of work to do with only 3 hours to do it. This is something I can and will fix, someday-- tho I am not sure I will be victorious soon enough. But I'll have to just make that decision every time it comes around to it.
3. I overbook myself. I tell everyone yes and find that I end up only giving each of them a small part of what they deserve. I decide that since each of the events that's going down start at different times, I can spend a little time at each one of these. So I spend 30 minutes having dinner with one group of friends, an hour at someone's board game night, another 30 minutes hanging out with friends who are having dinner together-though I've already eaten, and then being picked up early to spend the rest of my night and maybe part of the next day with the friends that replace my sleep and steal my sanity. I burnt myself out in high-school when I tried doing this with volleyball, spring play, Student Council, creative outreach, SSLT, and tutoring. A few other random things were thrown into that group and I ran on pure adrenaline for the last 3 months of high-school (I literally slept at least 15 hours every night of the first week after graduation).
4. I put the important stuff on the back burner. I get reminded of the urgency or absolute necessity of something in my life, but I don't put it into practice and when things start getting messy it takes me a long time to remember why things went wrong. I'm quite the forgetful person.
5. I'll do just about anything for you if you ask me to. Sometimes this means I get taken advantage of and used, but sometimes it's okay. This is something that is going to have to be hashed out on a later date.
6. I compare myself to everyone else.. in every possible aspect of life. I put everything about me under the microscope and I find myself looking at others and then me, as if we should somehow match up. I compare what I look like to how others look like. I compare my friendships with those of others. I compare my habits. I compare my place in a group of friends. I compare the way I carry myself with others. I compare the way I live my daily life. I compare people's perceptions about me with mine about them. And when I fall short in my own eyes, which happens to be consistently, I beat up on myself for being such a loser. There's always something to change. Either I need to be more approachable, or I need to be less obnoxious. I need to be more of a quiet person. I need to be a better friend. I need to be that person. I need to not be me. And I ask myself why I can't seem to develop the kinds of friendship with a specific person over months that I see built in weeks by another person. I ask why I'm not the person they're willing to invest in. I ask why I can't keep my mouth shut when all that is coming out of it is stupid immature ranting and laughter. I ask why I can't seem to be like them and be me.
I'm sure I have many more bad habits, but it would take a while to pull them all out of the closet. So for now, there's a few of my best qualities.
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
When your friend accuses you of stealing her man..
You laugh and say "oh you've got back up!" Yep, true friendship right there. You can see the fake heartbreak in her eyes, but you know that there are some real tears she is shedding in her heart. She's got several men lined up in case this one doesn't work out. She'll survive this, she can fall back on so many others. Now I don't have that many accumulated. I have no back up. She really needs to stop being selfish.
But that's not at all the situation. We're boy crazy, you could say. But we really aren't. We just like to joke around about our friends, and we claim some, we call some. I've had a few harsh names thrown my way, but I can respond with an "Oh you love me! Come here, sweetie!" We know it's all play, she knows I love her and I would never do such a thing in real life. But our text conversations usually aren't real life. They're weird situations we imagine would be true one day. We can joke like this because the possibility of it coming true is so far off.
So much would have to happen for these things to ever be possible. People would need to change, situations turned around, and honestly, we would have to be the girls that their guy friends liked. This is nothing against her or me, but I can probably say it is true for her as it is for me that we easily become one of the "bro's." Or I guess we really become the sisters. These guy friends like these that I can remember back to middle school having around were great friends, but sometimes became too comfortable with treating me like one of the guys. Soon enough I felt like they didn't see me as a girl at all, and sometimes it's important for guys, especially good friends, to remember that we still are females. I don't want my guy friends to put up walls because they think we're just such a different species, but I don't want them to treat me like a bro. I want to be able to have conversations friends have with each other, and I want to know that these guys respect me as a girl. So I don't want to be seen as a bro, because I am not. I cannot biologically be a 'brother' because I am female.
I can say I love being seen as a sister to most of my guy friends because I know I can trust them. I can be assured that they would be there to protect me and help me out. Problem for girls who are seen as the sister is when they don't want to be seen as that sister. They build up a great friendship with a guy who really is brotherly, but because girls are just problematic, they stop seeing the friend as a brother and see a potential future in him. Being like someone's sister is like being "friend-zoned" for girls. Or maybe that's just what I think. For the most part, I don't want to be anything more than some people's sister and I love all the big brothers I've come to find at Union and even from high-school, but again.. girls are problematic. So, friend, (yes, you who holds that "grudge") I feel like we could probably relate in this.
But that's not at all the situation. We're boy crazy, you could say. But we really aren't. We just like to joke around about our friends, and we claim some, we call some. I've had a few harsh names thrown my way, but I can respond with an "Oh you love me! Come here, sweetie!" We know it's all play, she knows I love her and I would never do such a thing in real life. But our text conversations usually aren't real life. They're weird situations we imagine would be true one day. We can joke like this because the possibility of it coming true is so far off.
So much would have to happen for these things to ever be possible. People would need to change, situations turned around, and honestly, we would have to be the girls that their guy friends liked. This is nothing against her or me, but I can probably say it is true for her as it is for me that we easily become one of the "bro's." Or I guess we really become the sisters. These guy friends like these that I can remember back to middle school having around were great friends, but sometimes became too comfortable with treating me like one of the guys. Soon enough I felt like they didn't see me as a girl at all, and sometimes it's important for guys, especially good friends, to remember that we still are females. I don't want my guy friends to put up walls because they think we're just such a different species, but I don't want them to treat me like a bro. I want to be able to have conversations friends have with each other, and I want to know that these guys respect me as a girl. So I don't want to be seen as a bro, because I am not. I cannot biologically be a 'brother' because I am female.
I can say I love being seen as a sister to most of my guy friends because I know I can trust them. I can be assured that they would be there to protect me and help me out. Problem for girls who are seen as the sister is when they don't want to be seen as that sister. They build up a great friendship with a guy who really is brotherly, but because girls are just problematic, they stop seeing the friend as a brother and see a potential future in him. Being like someone's sister is like being "friend-zoned" for girls. Or maybe that's just what I think. For the most part, I don't want to be anything more than some people's sister and I love all the big brothers I've come to find at Union and even from high-school, but again.. girls are problematic. So, friend, (yes, you who holds that "grudge") I feel like we could probably relate in this.
Sunday, February 12, 2012
You're not from this world.
Apparently I've gotten a little emotionally detached from my posts and I've been putting more of my head into this than of my heart. You've got to understand, it is a lot easier for me to tell you what I know and what I think about it than what my heart is saying. It gets real easy for me to rant about the superficial feelings I have about objective things, and so I default into that when I get on here. It might be about me, but its not really saying much.
In one of my first posts I wrote that I would be dealing with the whole "my parents are across an ocean and it sucks" and through posts on here. Well, other than the post about my dad, I haven't really come back to it. I lied to you guys, I didn't deal with it on here. I have dealt with this realization more than once since writing that, but my first reaction is not to blog about it. I never even think about talking to anyone about it. And so no one knew. I literally didn't tell a soul when I sat in my room feeling lonely and crappy and too far from home. Honestly, it would've taken much more to make me talk to someone, and even then I would probably still try to fight sharing. Dealing with this outwardly, on here, is going to take some getting used to.
One of the main reasons I think I haven't been posting when I've dealt with being homesick is because I hate to make people listen to me talk about how much stuff sucks. Yes, I should be able to blog about it and you can read if you want, but I think I'm afraid I'll push you all away with my crap. I don't want to dump my life on others, I don't want you to have to feel for me. I guess you decided to read this, knowing that it will be half-way personal, and so you're ready to read about my crap, but I don't know if I trust you to stick around. People don't like dealing with the the humanity of others, and I'm afraid you won't want to deal with mine. So, I don't post about it. And we get back to the same place: this is a blog, and one of my first posts said that I would deal with stuff on here. So, I have to remind myself-- "Sierra, you said you would be willing to be vulnerable." I have yet to completely trust whoever is reading this to read and be willing to keep reading. I know that soon enough, if I let my heart filter into these posts, no one will be reading anymore. Maybe I don't know that, maybe I just think that, or maybe I just fear that it will play out that way. Too many maybes, I might as well just post and not care who reads. I might as well write and hope, or not hope at all, and that way I won't be disappointed. And whoever is reading will just remind me, once they stop reading, that people get tired of you and leave, that consistency is something that man will never possess in his own power.
Maybe I should take my friend's perspective: "This is my blog, I will write what I feel and think and you can read it, or you can stay away. If you don't like it then you can stop reading, but honestly you are reading at your own risk. So if you are offended, tough luck, go away." Problem-- I'm not at all as bold as my friend. She knows that people will like you or they won't, and there's not much to do about it. Don't try to please them all, you'll lose yourself. Speak your mind.
I know my worth is not in the people around me who approve or dislike me, but rather it's in my God who is glorified even in all my flawed craziness. But I'm human, and I want to fight for God with my life, but I fall short too often. And I look to the flesh for worth rather than trust that my hope is in God. And the flesh never fails to disappoint me. I decide that I don't want to offend anyone with anything I say because I don't want anyone to have anything against me. Once again, this is a problem, because so much of who I am clashes with most of everyone else. What I believe, how I live my life, goes against the world's "This life is about me and my pleasure and desires and making myself feel worthy." I believe in a God who has called me to forget myself and follow Him- to put myself after others and their needs. But I fall short; I am selfish, and decide that I want to try to please myself with the world instead of taking hold of what I know is eternally satisfying.
I forget that He who is with me is greater than he who is with the world, and I fear people and their perceptions of me. I am afraid that they won't like what my heart says. They will tell me I'm wrong and or they'll see my weakness and push me aside. I let so many things get to my head, and when they get there I don't let them go. I go over them too many times. Over and Over. They go through my head till they tear me apart or I break them down. The times I can break them down are few, but they do happen, when I trust the Man who's in charge of my heart to help me deal.
And I will try to write what I need to write. I will try to deal with life on here, but don't trust that it'll all be on here. I can't do that to you, make you read about it all, every time it comes up. I can't make you sit through that, over and over. So part of my dealing, I guess, will be me making myself share my heart- make myself willing to let this post speak for me when words can't be heard through the choked back tears. Well, that sounded dramatic, but seriously, if you want to hear about my crap but don't want to have to deal with the physical mess of it all, you can just come here. I'll just hope someone will be willing to deal with the physical mess as well as the rest.
So there's a shallow look at my heart. A jumble of fears and insecurities. Haven't heard that one before, have you? Too many of us deal with the same stupid insecurities for us not to see a pattern. I've seen the pattern, I see the reason, but I see the solution, and yet I fail to get over it. I fail to put words to practice and I fail to trust. But I'll save that one for next time.
In one of my first posts I wrote that I would be dealing with the whole "my parents are across an ocean and it sucks" and through posts on here. Well, other than the post about my dad, I haven't really come back to it. I lied to you guys, I didn't deal with it on here. I have dealt with this realization more than once since writing that, but my first reaction is not to blog about it. I never even think about talking to anyone about it. And so no one knew. I literally didn't tell a soul when I sat in my room feeling lonely and crappy and too far from home. Honestly, it would've taken much more to make me talk to someone, and even then I would probably still try to fight sharing. Dealing with this outwardly, on here, is going to take some getting used to.
One of the main reasons I think I haven't been posting when I've dealt with being homesick is because I hate to make people listen to me talk about how much stuff sucks. Yes, I should be able to blog about it and you can read if you want, but I think I'm afraid I'll push you all away with my crap. I don't want to dump my life on others, I don't want you to have to feel for me. I guess you decided to read this, knowing that it will be half-way personal, and so you're ready to read about my crap, but I don't know if I trust you to stick around. People don't like dealing with the the humanity of others, and I'm afraid you won't want to deal with mine. So, I don't post about it. And we get back to the same place: this is a blog, and one of my first posts said that I would deal with stuff on here. So, I have to remind myself-- "Sierra, you said you would be willing to be vulnerable." I have yet to completely trust whoever is reading this to read and be willing to keep reading. I know that soon enough, if I let my heart filter into these posts, no one will be reading anymore. Maybe I don't know that, maybe I just think that, or maybe I just fear that it will play out that way. Too many maybes, I might as well just post and not care who reads. I might as well write and hope, or not hope at all, and that way I won't be disappointed. And whoever is reading will just remind me, once they stop reading, that people get tired of you and leave, that consistency is something that man will never possess in his own power.
Maybe I should take my friend's perspective: "This is my blog, I will write what I feel and think and you can read it, or you can stay away. If you don't like it then you can stop reading, but honestly you are reading at your own risk. So if you are offended, tough luck, go away." Problem-- I'm not at all as bold as my friend. She knows that people will like you or they won't, and there's not much to do about it. Don't try to please them all, you'll lose yourself. Speak your mind.
I know my worth is not in the people around me who approve or dislike me, but rather it's in my God who is glorified even in all my flawed craziness. But I'm human, and I want to fight for God with my life, but I fall short too often. And I look to the flesh for worth rather than trust that my hope is in God. And the flesh never fails to disappoint me. I decide that I don't want to offend anyone with anything I say because I don't want anyone to have anything against me. Once again, this is a problem, because so much of who I am clashes with most of everyone else. What I believe, how I live my life, goes against the world's "This life is about me and my pleasure and desires and making myself feel worthy." I believe in a God who has called me to forget myself and follow Him- to put myself after others and their needs. But I fall short; I am selfish, and decide that I want to try to please myself with the world instead of taking hold of what I know is eternally satisfying.
I forget that He who is with me is greater than he who is with the world, and I fear people and their perceptions of me. I am afraid that they won't like what my heart says. They will tell me I'm wrong and or they'll see my weakness and push me aside. I let so many things get to my head, and when they get there I don't let them go. I go over them too many times. Over and Over. They go through my head till they tear me apart or I break them down. The times I can break them down are few, but they do happen, when I trust the Man who's in charge of my heart to help me deal.
And I will try to write what I need to write. I will try to deal with life on here, but don't trust that it'll all be on here. I can't do that to you, make you read about it all, every time it comes up. I can't make you sit through that, over and over. So part of my dealing, I guess, will be me making myself share my heart- make myself willing to let this post speak for me when words can't be heard through the choked back tears. Well, that sounded dramatic, but seriously, if you want to hear about my crap but don't want to have to deal with the physical mess of it all, you can just come here. I'll just hope someone will be willing to deal with the physical mess as well as the rest.
So there's a shallow look at my heart. A jumble of fears and insecurities. Haven't heard that one before, have you? Too many of us deal with the same stupid insecurities for us not to see a pattern. I've seen the pattern, I see the reason, but I see the solution, and yet I fail to get over it. I fail to put words to practice and I fail to trust. But I'll save that one for next time.
Thursday, February 9, 2012
Infamously Unknown
I was talking to a friend recently and he was telling me about how people he had never met knew all about him. Or at least they thought they knew about him. He was encountering people who had heard all sorts of things about him from others who thought they knew him; it was said that he was a troublemaker, a party crazed student, an all around bad kid. He admitted that some of the presuppositions that people held about him stemmed from some truth, but the worst of it was just ignorance on their part. His name carried a reputation that he couldn't seem to shake. I couldn't help but think about the day I met him. I had actually heard only good things about him, though few: really nice guy, good person. I let the one day that I met him change my mind completely. He didn't meet the great expectations I had for him so I started thinking the opposite about him. At that point is when I also started hearing worse things about him. I let the few times when his name and something not-so-great were mentioned in the same sentence shape my perception of him.
I do this way too often. When we know little or nothing about someone, even if it is good, we soon let what bad we hear rewrite who they are. Sometimes what we hear is true, and people say what they say for a reason, but why have we let what others say change our minds? We let what we hear get to our heads, and we decide what kind of person everyone is, and then we are thrown off when we get to know that person and they don't match up with what we decided was true. Because it wasn't true. Don't let it become an absolute until you've seen it proven to be so.
Maybe we should get our faces out of other people's lives and stop deciding with our ignorant and biased brains who they are. I know, I know, we're all just so smart, we have very discerning minds, we just know this stuff. But really, do you really know that much? No, you don't, and I don't. I will never know enough, learn enough, or understand enough to justifiably decide what someone is like before getting to know them. So why don't we just stop wasting our time and their time by thinking about them and who we believe they are. Don't think about it, just let them walk into your life, spend some time there, and leave the mark that they made, not the one you set up for them before they showed up.
And.. and and and what right do we have to even think so critically, analytically and decisively about people? First off, can I just say how creepy that sounds? You're laying in bed at night or something less weird, and you spend how much time thinking about this person trying to figure them out. Second, it's not your life to be calling shots-stop trying to figure out their crap when you've got enough of your own to share. C of all, spend your time and the little brain juice you've got to think about things that make you better, smarter, or just less creepy. And for quarts, you're not in control of most of what happens around and to you, so you look for it elsewhere, well let me tell you, as soon as you decide something about someone, your control will be lost because they will change your mind or change themselves.
and sierra's corner of nonsense, or whatever I called it, is back for a moment.
I know you, I know you, I know you so well. The words that linger leave traces of dirt, I trust them to tell me your story. You've no way to see what's said, you've been gone as your name's been built around the life of an absent man. The frame of words walks before you, but you don't wear his shoes. You're one step off, one step above the man that carries your name and dirties your face. He reached inside to scratch a soul, but you've got it on hold and he is clawing at the spaces between the words he's written.
I do this way too often. When we know little or nothing about someone, even if it is good, we soon let what bad we hear rewrite who they are. Sometimes what we hear is true, and people say what they say for a reason, but why have we let what others say change our minds? We let what we hear get to our heads, and we decide what kind of person everyone is, and then we are thrown off when we get to know that person and they don't match up with what we decided was true. Because it wasn't true. Don't let it become an absolute until you've seen it proven to be so.
Maybe we should get our faces out of other people's lives and stop deciding with our ignorant and biased brains who they are. I know, I know, we're all just so smart, we have very discerning minds, we just know this stuff. But really, do you really know that much? No, you don't, and I don't. I will never know enough, learn enough, or understand enough to justifiably decide what someone is like before getting to know them. So why don't we just stop wasting our time and their time by thinking about them and who we believe they are. Don't think about it, just let them walk into your life, spend some time there, and leave the mark that they made, not the one you set up for them before they showed up.
And.. and and and what right do we have to even think so critically, analytically and decisively about people? First off, can I just say how creepy that sounds? You're laying in bed at night or something less weird, and you spend how much time thinking about this person trying to figure them out. Second, it's not your life to be calling shots-stop trying to figure out their crap when you've got enough of your own to share. C of all, spend your time and the little brain juice you've got to think about things that make you better, smarter, or just less creepy. And for quarts, you're not in control of most of what happens around and to you, so you look for it elsewhere, well let me tell you, as soon as you decide something about someone, your control will be lost because they will change your mind or change themselves.
and sierra's corner of nonsense, or whatever I called it, is back for a moment.
I know you, I know you, I know you so well. The words that linger leave traces of dirt, I trust them to tell me your story. You've no way to see what's said, you've been gone as your name's been built around the life of an absent man. The frame of words walks before you, but you don't wear his shoes. You're one step off, one step above the man that carries your name and dirties your face. He reached inside to scratch a soul, but you've got it on hold and he is clawing at the spaces between the words he's written.
Monday, February 6, 2012
My Kryptonite
I felt the need to write this post because I wanted to try to explain my life at this moment, the circumstances of today, to myself. Right now, my body is feeling the consequences of my weekend: not enough sleep, major procrastination on killer reading all leading up to last night, and just too much fun (all wholesome goodness, of course .. ;)) As I posted on facebook, "The weekend is the few days you have to rest after a long week of work, yes? Then why do I stay up later, sleep less, do more, and leave all the work for the end, making it that I start the next week off more tired than I ended the last week? Because it's so much more fun that way ;)" I'm afraid I got away with this last semester because I had a perfect slot for naps after my first class on Mondays. Over J-term, I had all the time in the world to nap after my morning classes, so I was getting home anywhere between 12 and 2 every night the last two weeks. I was still fitting in exercise, Jesus time, sleep, food, and cool people. This first weekend of Spring Semester proved that I could not get away with the same combination of greatness anymore. I had a great weekend, would do it all over again.. except for one thing-- I would have made the choice to split my reading up instead of leaving 4 books on my desk to be read on Sunday night. Needless to say, I didn't get as much sleep as I needed last night. I could've gotten away with that last semester or J-term with naps. Today, I tasted a long napless day. I hope to never return to such a God-forsaken place again.
I woke up at 9:30, after 5 1/2 hours of sleep (I can function on this later in the week with naps, but not on a napless Monday). After a much needed time with God in His Word, I went to World Politics at 11. Lunch at 12, Beauty, my Honors course, at 1--this course takes its toll on the mind. After attempting to read for ICS, I headed there at 3, walked out at 4:30, not even aware of what I was doing or where I was going. I had under two hours before I would have to return for my 3 hour class at 6. I went to my room and tried to nap. I lied when I said I didn't nap, I napped for about 20 minutes, not like it did any good tho. After some dinner, headed to class. I thank God for Dr. Allen and bless him for letting us out at 7:30; I was not in any way ready to sit there for over an hour more. At this point my head is throbbing, my foot is not any better than it was on Friday and its gotten cold outside, ew. My friends who saw me on my way back to my room can see my glazed look and slumped body and had sympathy--but really I'm almost all to blame for this.
It was a pretty harsh schedule for a Monday, but it could have gone so much better if I weren't so weak. "Weak?" you ask. Yes. I, Sierra Owens-Hughes, am weak. I know this is really hard to believe (cue the womanhood/weakness joke from a certain reader). My weakness, my kryptonite, is people. I love people, and it doesn't help that I don't like homework. I had meant to get some work done on Saturday but both Friday and Saturday nights I spent with friends goofing off, watching movies, playing music, going to Steak & Shake (now become a stable part of my week). I can say I stayed up later than I ever have for social reasons. I've only stayed up that late for school stuff--procrastination, of course. Unless it is THE time to do my work, i.e. the night before its due, I will always choose people over work. Last night I left the Superbowl party happening upstairs to start my reading for today. I even put American football after homework (please note the sarcasm). I knew it was time to get working, but when Anna knocked on my window I of course stopped my reading to talk to her. Someone returning to the party upstairs gave me flack for not working, but he agreed with my "people before homework" choice. I will always put aside my work if someone wants to talk to me, not because I don't want to be a jerk and say no, but because I love talking to people. I really love getting to know people. If you want to be my friend, be willing to just talk--about anything. I do not expect you to come to me and spill your heart to me, but lets talk. Except for a few exceptions, mostly just some people who creep me out or annoy the crap out of me, I want to get to know you. I really do! I mean, I will not lie, I can't stand when someone I barely know/don't know decides that they're going to tell me their life story over chat. That's just you wanting attention. Build a relationship with someone, don't just dump your life's crap on them. BUT, don't expect me to want to spend tons of time with you if all we ever do is goof off. It's fun, but if you can't have a real conversation with me.. that friendship isn't going very far.
Back to whatever I was saying.. it's not like every time I say yes to some text or facebook message I'm about to go have a great conversation that will deepen my friendships. Honestly, that happens maybe half the time, but I have to be willing to have nights where we aren't getting into deep conversations to also be there for the great times. And those nights where we don't have a deep conversation are still so fun. Those times when I just goof off with someone is where our inside jokes and great memories can be made. I might have just made it sound like I have to make the hard choice to hang out with people, no matter what. FALSE. I will say yes to hanging out with friends most any time. I love to laugh, and my friends make me laugh--that is why they are my friends! Of course not the only reason they're my friends, but it does help. God has put some amazing people in my life, and I take the time, lots of it, to enjoy them and our friendship.
Sometimes I should be making the decision of putting rest or homework before just hanging out. Unless it's some crucial situation where someone needs me, I don't always have to say yes. I can't not say no because I'm just some people pleaser, but because that's my weakness. Any chance of having fun with friends arises, I can't say no, I can't help myself. And then the horrible situation comes up every once in a while when several chances of hanging out with there are several different groups of friends doing something, and I just don't know what to do with myself, so I try to do it all and find myself blissfully exhausted. Maybe just a couple of times have I regretted staying up a little late to have a great time with friends instead of doing much needed work. If I've regretted it, it means my work load is bad and I will be running on adrenaline and caffeine for a few days.
Prime example of this whole situation: tonight. I got back from class at 7:30, decided to write a "quick" blog post about today and go to bed early, you know, get some good much needed rest. What happens? I am in the middle of the blog, talking to a few friends on skype and texting, but nothing that will keep me up till later than needed. Then I get a facebook message from Mr. Dani Marti with a much too familiar command. "Sierra, ask Celia if she wants to get some dinner! I'd like IHOP!" So I tell Celia, we head to Dani's within 15 min. The three of us plus one of Dani's teammates go to Steak & Shake for a while, then spend way too long digging through the 5$ DVD bin at Walmart. I get home at 11:20 and I can't just leave my blog, I finish it. Now, don't think I spent some hours on this blog, I just get distracted easily. My "get rested tonight" plan is out the window, but I thank God that I don't have class till 10:50 tomorrow. And I never regret our family dinners.
I woke up at 9:30, after 5 1/2 hours of sleep (I can function on this later in the week with naps, but not on a napless Monday). After a much needed time with God in His Word, I went to World Politics at 11. Lunch at 12, Beauty, my Honors course, at 1--this course takes its toll on the mind. After attempting to read for ICS, I headed there at 3, walked out at 4:30, not even aware of what I was doing or where I was going. I had under two hours before I would have to return for my 3 hour class at 6. I went to my room and tried to nap. I lied when I said I didn't nap, I napped for about 20 minutes, not like it did any good tho. After some dinner, headed to class. I thank God for Dr. Allen and bless him for letting us out at 7:30; I was not in any way ready to sit there for over an hour more. At this point my head is throbbing, my foot is not any better than it was on Friday and its gotten cold outside, ew. My friends who saw me on my way back to my room can see my glazed look and slumped body and had sympathy--but really I'm almost all to blame for this.
It was a pretty harsh schedule for a Monday, but it could have gone so much better if I weren't so weak. "Weak?" you ask. Yes. I, Sierra Owens-Hughes, am weak. I know this is really hard to believe (cue the womanhood/weakness joke from a certain reader). My weakness, my kryptonite, is people. I love people, and it doesn't help that I don't like homework. I had meant to get some work done on Saturday but both Friday and Saturday nights I spent with friends goofing off, watching movies, playing music, going to Steak & Shake (now become a stable part of my week). I can say I stayed up later than I ever have for social reasons. I've only stayed up that late for school stuff--procrastination, of course. Unless it is THE time to do my work, i.e. the night before its due, I will always choose people over work. Last night I left the Superbowl party happening upstairs to start my reading for today. I even put American football after homework (please note the sarcasm). I knew it was time to get working, but when Anna knocked on my window I of course stopped my reading to talk to her. Someone returning to the party upstairs gave me flack for not working, but he agreed with my "people before homework" choice. I will always put aside my work if someone wants to talk to me, not because I don't want to be a jerk and say no, but because I love talking to people. I really love getting to know people. If you want to be my friend, be willing to just talk--about anything. I do not expect you to come to me and spill your heart to me, but lets talk. Except for a few exceptions, mostly just some people who creep me out or annoy the crap out of me, I want to get to know you. I really do! I mean, I will not lie, I can't stand when someone I barely know/don't know decides that they're going to tell me their life story over chat. That's just you wanting attention. Build a relationship with someone, don't just dump your life's crap on them. BUT, don't expect me to want to spend tons of time with you if all we ever do is goof off. It's fun, but if you can't have a real conversation with me.. that friendship isn't going very far.
Back to whatever I was saying.. it's not like every time I say yes to some text or facebook message I'm about to go have a great conversation that will deepen my friendships. Honestly, that happens maybe half the time, but I have to be willing to have nights where we aren't getting into deep conversations to also be there for the great times. And those nights where we don't have a deep conversation are still so fun. Those times when I just goof off with someone is where our inside jokes and great memories can be made. I might have just made it sound like I have to make the hard choice to hang out with people, no matter what. FALSE. I will say yes to hanging out with friends most any time. I love to laugh, and my friends make me laugh--that is why they are my friends! Of course not the only reason they're my friends, but it does help. God has put some amazing people in my life, and I take the time, lots of it, to enjoy them and our friendship.
Sometimes I should be making the decision of putting rest or homework before just hanging out. Unless it's some crucial situation where someone needs me, I don't always have to say yes. I can't not say no because I'm just some people pleaser, but because that's my weakness. Any chance of having fun with friends arises, I can't say no, I can't help myself. And then the horrible situation comes up every once in a while when several chances of hanging out with there are several different groups of friends doing something, and I just don't know what to do with myself, so I try to do it all and find myself blissfully exhausted. Maybe just a couple of times have I regretted staying up a little late to have a great time with friends instead of doing much needed work. If I've regretted it, it means my work load is bad and I will be running on adrenaline and caffeine for a few days.
Prime example of this whole situation: tonight. I got back from class at 7:30, decided to write a "quick" blog post about today and go to bed early, you know, get some good much needed rest. What happens? I am in the middle of the blog, talking to a few friends on skype and texting, but nothing that will keep me up till later than needed. Then I get a facebook message from Mr. Dani Marti with a much too familiar command. "Sierra, ask Celia if she wants to get some dinner! I'd like IHOP!" So I tell Celia, we head to Dani's within 15 min. The three of us plus one of Dani's teammates go to Steak & Shake for a while, then spend way too long digging through the 5$ DVD bin at Walmart. I get home at 11:20 and I can't just leave my blog, I finish it. Now, don't think I spent some hours on this blog, I just get distracted easily. My "get rested tonight" plan is out the window, but I thank God that I don't have class till 10:50 tomorrow. And I never regret our family dinners.
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