It’s here again, the cake, the candles, the goofy Hallmark cards and the shining parcels.  But it’s different, emptier than it once was.  I don’t have the child’s eyes that can be dazzled by pretty wrapping and flashy gifts anymore.  Instead, I look back, a lot.  I scroll through facebook and watch everyone mapping out their lives with boyfriends, school, careers, and kids.

“I feel old.”

But I’m not.  The mid-life crisis shouldn’t be here.  The feeling of being hopelessly behind shouldn’t eat at me yet.

Maybe it’s not that I feel behind, but I wonder what I’m heading toward.  Happiness?  I hope so, but I can’t always see it.

“I thought I’d have everything figured out by now.”  But I don’t.  Who ever does?

And I’m Jo March, curled up on the staircase, watching life change around her, feeling the same as years past: a little lost, a little hopeful, but still too little for the world.

Birthdays are supposed to be happy.   But somehow they seem to go hand in hand with melancholy, like single people at weddings.

Cheers to the past years, to another year, to the future.

Here it is: 19.

I love to walk. There isn’t a better way to think.  When I’m moving, my mind kind reel around at 100 miles an hour, but when I’m still, then my mind skitters into a brick wall.  Pumping my legs, arms swinging, sun in my face, I feel as though I can run from every problem I’ve ever faced, from every worry clutching at me.   I guess for a minute, I feel free.  This probably explains my notorious pacing, a trait that I share with my sister.

Today, my thoughts wandered to writing.  I’ve recently finished my first attempt at writing for my brother-in-law’s company.  Basically, I was writing an ad for a business.  Granted, it wasn’t exactly an ad, but the goal was to entice people toward that company.

At first, I felt exhilarated.  “I’m finally doing what my whole college career has been leading up to!”  But then the amusement died down.  I began to question my choices and my friend’s words rang in my ears: “Ha, watch, you’ll end up in the advertising business.”  It was a harmless jab, meant to be funny, but now it seemed like a dooming sentence.

Suddenly, my mind was speeding forward, picturing myself years from now, single, living with my sister’s family, hunched over a small desk while writing ads in a state reminiscent of a zombie.

“Crap!”

Old cat lady had been traded in for old advertising lady, which wouldn’t be so bad, mind you, if advertising was something I loved or even remotely cared about.  Unfortunately, it’s not.

So, I was left discombobulated, once again questioning the logic of shoveling out buckets of money toward degrees in English and writing.

But then, something happened.  While procrastinating on my homework, I poured out words, not about marketing, but about life.  I wrote about my hurts and fears, about turning 19.  I’ve written about love and disappointment, about things that shape us.  I want to continue writing, continue pouring bits of myself into ink and typeface, even the simplest parts, like the laughter I feel from a certain little puppy sneaking up and trying to dart a lick at my spaghetti plate.

Words have more power than we acknowledge.  They can change opinions and change how we think.  They record history, which in turn molds how we regard the past.  It’s scary in some ways.  That’s why I’m not a fan of overly charismatic people.  I don’t like pretty smiles and fancy words that can totally sway a listener in a second.  Give me awkward and honest any day.

Maybe that’s why the writers I’ve met seem to be so quiet.  They know the influence of words and they don’t recklessly wield it (though I have a sneaking suspicion that these people are ferocious on paper).  And speaking is too quick, too hasty.  Any passing thought can spill out.  Writing offers the same power, but in a slower, more careful way.  You have to think about what you say and, if you have good intentions, you’ll make sure not to misguide people.

Anyway, I guess if I have to write meaningless ads to write what I want, then it’s worth it.  At the end of the day, I may loath writing, but I’ll always love it.  And I never should have doubted that.

Plus, as it turns out, avoiding homework has its positives, like giving you deep and meaningful revelations.  Who would’ve thought?

You either love it or you hate it.  At least, so Messy Monday’s video depicted.  It’s Valentine’s Day, the time where you either flaunt your latest conquest or hole up in the house watching chick flicks.  It’s either the blissful or horrid day that draws a thick line between those dating and those single.

I’ve been torn on how to feel about this holiday.  The more practical side of me agrees that a day to celebrate love is foolish…we should be celebrating those we love every day, not just once a year with a Hallmark card. The single part of me grumbles “stupid holiday,” before shoving a spoonful of ice cream in my mouth and shuffling away in my slippers.

But, my “Valentine’s Day is Overrated Attitude,” (yes, I actually called it overrated, every romantic out there can feel free to borrow cupid’s bow and slap me upside the head) recently got shaken.  My boss and co-worker basically said, “I like love, why not celebrate it?” and “I like candy.”  I can’t really argue with either of those statements, nor with my dad’s “Every girl should be spoiled on Valentine’s Day.”

It is my belief that all girls have a romantic, sugar loving side to them.  Love is celebrated in practical ways every day but what’s wrong with bringing out that red rose once a year?  Sure, the holiday may be geared towards big bucks and profit, but as long as the individual’s gestures are genuine, then I don’t see a problem.

As for being single, Valentine’s Day is what you make of it and to me it’s about all kinds of love, not just the ooey-gooey guy-girl stuff.  Why not celebrate your parents or your siblings?  Why not celebrate your grandparents?  (I won’t say pet since that’s touchy “old cat lady” territory)  Why not celebrate God’s love for that matter?

Also, ever notice how when you feel loved, you want to share it with others?  Your heart is so full that you want to throw out your arms and encompass everyone in that warmth.  Since God loves us that way every day, shouldn’t that make it easier to love others?  Shouldn’t that even make it impossible for us not to love others?

Well, anyway, Happy Valentine’s Day everyone.  Now I’m off to hug my dog…

(Check out Bilmey Cow’s “Messy Mondays” series on Youtube…these guys have some pretty brilliant points!)

“You definitely have talent as a writer…”

What does that mean?  Writing isn’t an adventure for the faint of heart, it demands discipline, courage, fortitude, ingenuity and the commitment to truth.  I’m more often a discouraged and undisciplined young woman.  I have grand dreams but dreams alone go nowhere.

Such brilliant characters: Jo March and Elizabeth Bennet.  And such brilliant writers: Louisa May Alcott and Jane Austen.  How did they do it?  How did they pour the truth of their own lives into their novels?  Each story rings with the faint hues of reality.  Knowing some about the authoresses’ real lives makes it evident that they used their own experiences, situations, acquaintances and revelations to write.  They formed fantasy but it was fantasy molded with actual traits and ideas, molded with the world.

I don’t need to write the next great novel (though I admit it would be nice).  What I want to write probably wouldn’t even be considered great by today’s audience if Twilight and Eragon are anything to tell by (I say this slightly jealously and also with a reproof at my own unwarranted judgment).  What I want to write, what my heart cries to write, are stories that reflect reality in all of its absurdities, joys and sorrows.  I want to write characters that are real, that could live next door, but that still inevitably belong in their fictional worlds, for their worlds would be hollow without them.  But I haven’t discovered how to do this yet, the craft eludes me.  And while I enjoy an entertaining read, fantasy novels (whether half-baked or not) don’t quite reach my goals.

Am I called to write?  Do I know the ending?  Of course not.  As with all stories, I must wait and see.

I have no other title for this post than people, in all of their bewildering curiosities.  I guess I just can’t get over how complicated people really are.  Silly, huh?  But one minute you’re thinking one thing and the next, someone blows your mind away with something he or she says.  All the while you’re left saying, “I never knew they were going through that,” or “I never knew how they felt.”

Much of the time I claim to understand what I don’t really know.  My mind gets that other people are just as complex as I am…duh.  But I continue to forget, continue to let little irritations or bitterness override my view of people.  That is,  until I get stopped in my tracks and realize that once again I’ve bungled everything up.

My point?  I don’t really have one.  Everyone knows all of this already.  But if all I can say to myself, and to anyone else who cares to read this is, “Wake up and look at the people around you.  Make sure you really take in who they are and what they’re going through, stop making it about you,” then that’s enough.

One, particularly awesome day I got to munch on pumpkin pie with my grandpa while watching Eat, Pray, Love.  For awhile now this movie has come to my mind, inspiring several thoughts.  Now, I turn to the blog to handle these accumulated ramblings.

Quick summary, Eat, Pray Love is a story about a woman who wakes up one day wondering, “Who am I and where the heck did my life go?”  She leaves her husband and goes on a journey to Italy, India and Bali, basically to rediscover herself.  Obviously, large chunks of the story are missing but you’ll have to watch the movie for that.

The movie struck a chord with me because I’m not the regular get married and have four kids girl.  I’ve never really found that appealing, at least not yet.  So, I could totally imagine waking up one day and feeling the same way as the woman in the movie (which is not good, believe me, I know).  Beyond that, it’s also been bugging me because often I feel the same desire to break off from the “standard.”

To throw in some literary aspect here, Jane Austen once wrote, “It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.”  Today, we could change that to, “It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a young person in possession of good wits, must go to college, work a respectable job, get married, and have two children.”  It can even be illustrated at family parties where the three things people ask you are 1) What school are you at?  2) Where are you working?  and 3) Do I hear wedding bells?  Ding, dong, no!  Thus, you see where my rebelliousness comes in.

Sometimes, I just want to throw off the expectations of a one way society, go to Bali or wherever and discover what life means to me.  It sounds appealing and, the other day, while already being bogged down by school and work, it sounded like pure bliss.  Once I put on my more rational mind set however, I realized that this would be a big mistake (thank goodness for the rational side).

Why would it be?  First of all, what in the world does discovering yourself even mean?  And what is the likelihood that you’re going to find it in Bali, or anywhere else?  Secondly, if the whole point of going to some other country is to be rebellious and defy society, better think again.  Society already has that fit into its sneaky little mold too.  It’s called, “discovering yourself by being single for a certain length of time before marriage.”  Obnoxious is what I call it.

The only thing that I’ve found that makes any sense so far is this: losing yourself.  Truly the exact opposite of what society preaches and I’m ashamed to admit that I forgot it.  What does the Bible say?  Lose yourself.  Lose yourself in God and, through Him, in others, in loving those around you.  Let go of the you.  And not in the selfish way that says, “My life is now all about you, so you better make me proud” or any of the other tricky ways of claiming to make it about someone else when it’s really still about you.  No, I mean this equation: I love God, God made people and loves each and everyone of them, therefore I love each and every one of them.  Now how can I best serve God and those around me?

I’m not claiming that I live this way, far from it.  But it’s something I’ve been pondering lately: two, amusingly polar opposite ideas.

I was going to write a blog all about friendship and C.S. Lewis’ book, “The Four Loves.”  After looking over the material, I quickly became overwhelmed by the vastness of it all.  It would have been easy if three fifths of the stuff had been ignorable nonsense, but that’s just it: it’s all so good.  So, I’ve decided not to try and cover the weighty topic of friendship at 12:00 AM.  Rather, here are a couple of quotes and my thoughts.

“When either Friendship or Eros is one’s theme, one finds a prepared audience…but very few modern people think Friendship a love of comparable value, or even a love at all.”

“In each of my friends there is something that only some other friend can bring out.  By myself, I am not large enough to call the whole man into activity; I want other lights than my own to show all his facets.”

“The typical expression of opening Friendship would be something like, ‘What?  You too? I thought I was the only one.”

“It is when two such persons discover one another, when, whether with immense difficulties and semi-articulate fumblings or with what would seem to us amazing and elliptical speed, they share their visions-it is then that friendship is born.”

“The very condition of having Friends is that we should want something else besides Friends.”

“Friendship is unnecessary, like philosophy, like art, like the universe itself (for God did not need to create).  It has no survival value; rather it is one of those things which give value to survival.”

“…we picture lovers face to face, but Friends side by side; their eyes look ahead.”

“You will not find the warrior, the poet, the philosopher or the Christian by staring in his eyes as if he were your mistress: better fight beside him, read with him, argue with him, pray with him.”

Those are some of my favorite quotes as well as my favorite ideas about friendship.  I can’t re-write everything Lewis said but as it’s worth a read, or two, my recommendation: pick up the book.  Also, while most of the quotes I posted were positive views of friendship, Lewis honestly points out the flaws in friendship as well.  Envy, “clicks” and the like all act to make friendship an imperfect love.  I focused more heavily on the positives of friendship because I, like Lewis, am beginning to realize how debunked friendship is.

The real inspiration behind this post actually came from the movie, “Arranged,” about two friends, a Jewish girl and a Muslim girl, who relate over their upcoming arranged marriages.  While watching it, I couldn’t help but notice the similarities between Nasira and one of my close friends: bold, lovable, goofy, honest and so eager to see her friend happy.  Interestingly enough, the other character, Rochel (which is Rachel…weird), reminded my friend of me.  I’ll leave that description up to someone else.

I like the last image from the movie (above), of the two friends sitting on the bench together, discussing life.  It’s so simple and so unasked for.  It reflects Lewis’ idea of being shoulder to shoulder, instead of eye to eye.  It’s not all about knowing each other but rather, experiencing life and, through that, beginning to know one other along the way.