Faith is a funny thing . . .

What is my life going to be? Four years of college and plenty of knowledge have earned me this useless degree . . .

2008-04-15T12:04:00.001-05:00

Growing up is a scary, scary thing.

This is something I've come to discover. I have no idea what I want to do with my life, but really, who does? Everyone keeps telling me that people change their careers multiple times throughout their working years, but everyone needs a starting point. When one feels lost about where to start, that's when one knows one is truly lost. Right? If you don't know where to start, then you don't know where you're coming from- or going to. In other words, it means you don't have a starting point- a ground zero, if you will. Everyone keeps telling me I'll figure out where I want to go, but no one has told me I'll be able to figure out where to start.

Growing up is a part of life, and I feel as if it is a topic constantly in my head. It's hard not to be. Everything is always so future-focused. People keep asking me what I'm going to be doing next year, and what I want to do after college. I know that I'm supposed to have time to figure it all out, but what about the deadlines everyone sets? I need to know if I'm going to grad school in time to take the GMATs or LSATs or GRE or whatever. Yes, maybe I don't need to know where I'm going to end up, but I need to know where to start. And how can I not think about growing up? My closest friends are a year older than me. Their graduation is in four weeks. Wow.

It's hard not to think about growing up, especially from this end of it. I am watching some of my best friends find apartments in their new cities, find jobs and get job offers. I keep hearing about engagements and babies and weddings (oh my!). And I can't help but think.. I am nowhere near being ready for ANY of that. I am not ready to be engaged, married or with child. Hell, I'm not even ready to think about moving away from this undergraduate setting. The real world is a BIG SCARY PLACE to me right now. And I don't think it's a maturity thing. I am mature. I can handle not being in college. My problem is, I just don't know what I want to DO with my life. Does anyone really know, though? If people say it's alright to change your career dozens of times and to get divorced and to have abortions and to chance political opinions and to change your life constantly.. isn't that another way of saying it's alright not to know what you want from life? In a world that expects perfection, how is constant self-evolution a possibility?

Cause you can't jump the track, we're like cars on a cable,

And life's like an hourglass, glued to the table.

No one can find the rewind button now,

So cradle your head in your hands,

And breathe, just breathe.

Woah breathe, just breathe.

There's a light at each end of this tunnel, you shout

But you're just as far in as you'll ever be out.

These mistakes you've made, you'll just make them again

If you only try turning around.

And soon it is neither here nor there whether time's rewards are fair or unfair . . .

2007-07-17T16:09:00.000-05:00

Life isn't fair. This is a lesson we've all learned the hard way. Whether it was sneaking out of the house as a teenager or watching a close friend or family member suffer, we all have experiences with life being unfair. And unfairness is one of those things you think would go away with time. As the years pass by, I can't help but notice that life is still unfair. It's as unfair as it was when I was three and didn't get the Barbi I wanted. Life, now, is just unfair in different ways, and even if I don't personally feel the unfairness, I can see it all around me- at work, at home, in my relationships. Will the unfairness ever go away? No, I don't think so. So how does one cope with this bar set against them? Is it possible that some people always ream the benefits while others don't even get a fighting chance? What's fair about that? Is it a matter of luck? I mean, does anyone believe in luck anymore, or for that matter kharma? Maybe "fair" and "unfair" are just relative terms and only possess meaning when you put weight on them. Do we get things to balance out the fair and unfair? I can't help but wonder, is there a place where fair is neither here nor there or are we stuck within the confides of fair and unfair forever?

I never dreamed home would end up where I don't belong . . .

2007-07-12T11:24:00.000-05:00

Sometimes I can't help but wonder what we're all doing here. Why has fate or God or coincidence brought certain people to cross paths and other paths to join up or what would have become of me if I has chose a different path. And furthermore, what happens when you come to an end of a path? Recently, I've been watching my paths ending and stopping and failing me right before my eyes, and I feel so helpless. I watch myself drift away from people I used to love and interests I used to have, and it scares me. What will come of all this change? Change is scary and it's something I think about often. Is this life's way of telling us we're growing up? I'm losing my ties to the place where I grew up. My town doesn't have much to offer me except my family. I'm no longer attached to my high school friends even though we were convinced we'd be "best friends forever" and we'd prove the odds wrong because we would "keep in touch in college and always be a group." Our parents laughed at us, which gave us the motive to prove them wrong even more so. But, alas, it happened just as the odds predicted.. two summers into college and now everyone is at their respective schools with their friends or travelling abroad and having grand adventures. Even if we are home, we rarely meet up. High school seems so long ago and it truly means nothing to me right now. And more importantly, who I was and what I valued when I was in high school has changed too. I think that's why it's so hard to see the old group. I've changed since high school, we all have changed, but the thing is we were friends back then because we had something in common. There's no guarantee that we haven't lost that part of us that kept us together. And I think that is the hardest part to accept. Whenever we are together (if that happens at all) we cling so much to how we used to be, not who we have become. It gets to a point where you have to just let go of that old baggage, and I think I've reached that point. It's thrilling and mortifying at the same time. It makes me feel like I don't belong anymore, but it also makes me want to stand strong and be proud of who I've become. We've all dealt with our share of troubles and issues, and some have conquered or are trying to prevail. I don't want to forget my past because it serves as a basis for who I've become. I just want it to be in the past. I want to walk forward. I'm not sure if school is the place where I belong or if it's just a temporary place, but it is home. My entire life has moved from my quiet suburb to the city, and although I love coming home to my parents' house.. it's just that. My home in my suburb is my parents' house and my apartment in the city is my home. When I first got to college, I kept hearing the upperclassmen reference their apartments as "home" and their home as "my parents' house." I thought it was the strangest thing, but now I get it. And it's scary as hell to think that one day I will be an adult. There will come a time when I don't lean on my parents for rent and food money & for gas and insurance & everything else they provide. One day I will be on my own in my fabulous (albeit, probably hole-in-the-wall) apartment overlooking something marvelous (in reality, it'll probably be a dark alley or dumpster), and it won't matter what it's like because I'll be on my own two feet and relying on myself, not anybody else. But until then.. until after graduation and my first job and even my 21st birthday.. I'll living in my "mommy sponsered" apartment at school and that is the place I will feel most at home. I'm absolutely terrified to grow up for real (not just the daydream-about-your-future-fabulous-life-post-college), but this old house and these old people are not home. The people I love the most (after the family, of course) are not here. So I guess it's just time to take the leap of faith and step into the darkness, and hope to God there's something there waiting for me. These faces and these places are getting old, so I'm going home.

Devoted friends, they disappear . . .

2007-05-31T09:56:00.001-05:00

There's something to be said about friendships, and more importantly, of lost friendships. People come and go in and out of our lives all the time. Everything involves the interaction of people- riding the bus, work associates, school peers, family, a girl's night out. At the end of the day, however, there is always that core group of people we all lean on and turn to. These are the people you call at 4am crying or the first people you announce an engagement to. These people usually don't leave- they're the ones who stay. My mom always said you were lucky to have one or two of these people throughout our lives. I always thought I was extremely blessed to have about six of these types of friends. Yet, there was always one that stood out from the rest. She knew my moods simply by my facial expressions and the pace of my walk. She knew exactly how to put a smile on my face. And in a short amount of time, about a year, she knew everything about me- my favorite things, my dislikes, my fears, and my accomplishments. And likewise, I knew everything about her- from her high school years, to her family, even what type of wine was her favorite. I was lucky and blessed to call her my best friend and my big sister. She was sweet and genuine. She cares about her friends and always puts them before herself. Seeing a smile on my face could always turn her frown upside down. Our mutual friends always thought of our relationship as the perfect friendship, and it was. But I can't help but wonder how perfect our friendship truly was. We had a minor falling out after a small fight; however, it's been 96 days since I last spoke to my dear AJJ. That's 3 months and 7 days since I've truly smiled and was completely happy. It might sound crazy, but it's like I've been grieving for our lost friendship over these past 3 months. I miss her everyday. And even though she was my greatest lost and biggest mistake, whenever I feel sad all I want to do is go on a drive on the East side with her. There are certain things and certain place and certain songs I can no longer do/go/listen to because it makes me miss her so much. And sad part? I don't know if she misses me. At first I thought I was going crazy. It seems so ridiculous to grieve a friendship, but is it? The amount of time we put into our friends is almost more than what we put into a romantic relationship. And when that significant other fails us, it is those friends we turn to. So is it so absurd to miss our lost friendships? And why shouldn't it be able to leave us feeling alone and empty? Maybe it's not so ridiculous to miss our friends, especially our closest ones. And maybe it's okay to feel a twinge of sadness when a certain song comes on the radio or when you see a place that reminds you of someone. Maybe nostalgia is okay. Maybe it's not. All I know is I miss my AJJ everyday.. and there's never a day when I don't think of her and feel the pain. And maybe she didn't die, but I still grieve the loss like death, because really my Aliy is no longer my Aliy. She's just another girl who came into my life and left- just like that. And all she left me with is the faintest memory of the amazing friends we used to be.

It’s hard to deal with the pain of losing you everywhere I go
But I’m doin’ it
It’s hard to force that smile when I see our old friends and I’m alone
Still Harder
Getting up, getting dressed, livin’ with this regret
But I know if I could do it over
I would trade give away all the words that I saved in my heart
That I left unspoken

The key to change is to let go of fear . . .

2007-05-08T02:54:00.000-05:00

I am not a fan of change, but then again who is? No one likes getting uprooted from their life, whether it be comfortable or not, and getting moved or shifted or shaken. Although, I can't help but wonder, is it really that significant? Each new year offers a chance for change- we like to call it a new year's resolution. Each end is just a new beginning. Take the end of a school year, for example. Yes, it's over and we've got to keep moving on- getting older, developing new friends, pursuing new dreams- but does it ever really change that much? The sun still rises in the east. The moon is always surrounded by stars. The tide keeps cycling through. The rhythms of life do not change, and ultimately maybe all we need to do is get in tune with those rhythms. So what if we can never get rid of our baggage? So what if we decide we need to reach our potentials? Maybe the key is basics. So maybe instead of fearing this change, this uprooting from our little boxes.. maybe we should take time to notice the little things: the newly bloomed spring, the laughter with friends, even the pains and struggles. Because really, ultimately, we are nothing more than the rising sun in the east, the moon surrounded by stars, the constant tide rolling in over the sandy shores. Maybe all we need to do is listen to these rhythms with our heart and not our ears- and maybe we'll be okay.

"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others." - Marianne Williamson

Life isn’t nearly as stable as we want it to be . . .

2007-03-16T00:05:00.000-05:00

There’s something to be said about the beach. About the sun, the sand, the tide, the pure joy it brings to families- young and old, traditional and adopted. There’s also something to be said about the people you meet on the beach during the “walking” times- early in the morning and late in the afternoon when there are no people laying out or playing in the water. The people that walk the beach are the most remarkable. Generativity is the word to best describe it. Everyone enjoys the solemn sounds of the ocean, lost in their own thoughts and personal meditations, yet everyone manages to smile with a friendly hello to the next passer-by. If you’re lucky, you’ll stop and share stories. It’s incredible. Complete strangers share their stories- where they’re from, what they’re doing, and what they’re expectations are.

Today’s lesson is not about the sun, the sand, the people or their stories. It is about perfection. About conformity and expectations. This story, life lesson, whatever you call it, is about life and the beach. A metaphor, if you please. This morning, it occurred to me that I lost one of my best friends. When we parted ways to go to college, we knew our long distance friendship would be hard, but a year and a half later, I hadn’t expected the sudden change. It was scary. It is hard to lose a friendship of over six years, but it was a long time coming. Within seconds, the walls came crashing down. Not only had I lost my best friend- my maid of honor- my lifesaver… I had lost my sister. In a tizzy, I immediately leaned on my closest friend from school, telling her via text message, that I didn’t deserve her and that she needed someone better. I was convinced I wasn’t good enough. I wasn’t up to par, and she didn’t deserve to be dragged down. I like to call it my built-in defense mechanism. Whenever it gets scary, I shove away- pushing even the people that matter the most in my life, the people I love and care about the most included.

That afternoon, I took a long walk on the beach with my mom collecting seashells. It wasn’t until we were a few hundred yards away from our resort that I noticed what we were doing. The two of us were scowling over these washed us seashells, picking through to find the most perfect ones. We didn’t want the broken ones or the ones weren’t magnificently colored. I looked down at the shells in my hand- all golden colored and perfectly shaped. I looked over at my mom’s hand, which held the same type of shell, but in a variety of shapes and colors. Already emotionally drained, I got to thinking. My mom defies the laws of conformity- she always has and she always will. She’s not a rebel in any means- she got her college degree, then her masters, has a respectable job, and does the kinwork so our family stays together. But her lifestyle isn’t perfect, and I’m sure if she could go back she’d change a lot of it.

I felt so guilty about the seashells that I dropped them all and started again- and the pattern continued. I sought out the golden, perfectly shaped shells. Maybe this is how people are, I remember thinking. There’s something greater than us- a force of some sort- that puts the perfect people together. Everyone wants to be picked. That’s why we try so hard. That’s why women of all ages wake up hours before they need to be anywhere to beautify them. That’s why sorority girls try so hard. That’s why tweens sit and worship their older sisters. We want to be the same because we don’t want to be left behind. There is that except though- there is always the rare beauty. For that day on the beach, there were two rare beauties- a pure white shell that glistened like a shiny pearl and a salmon-colored gleaming mother of pearl.

In life, there are exceptions. There are those people that defy odds- the beautiful blond that is incredibly smart and witty or the teddy-bear guy that is nothing all that special but still has everyone flocking to him. And then there are the “Rocks.” The people that are always the ones people go to and lean on. These people must be rocks- they must take in everything told to them and never show emotion. Rocks must never lean on anyone else because if the Rock moves, there is a domino effect. Being a Rock is a curse. Even worse are the Rocks that are compassionate and take on others’ burdens as their own. I am a Rock. My mother is a Rock. I guess we’re both cursed. We never talk about it, and we’re not emotional towards each other. I’ve never seen my mom cry, and likewise, she’s never seen me cry. We’ve never talked about it and we never lean on each other- yet we both know. Call it a mother-daughter connection, but we both know when we need each other. It’s something unspoken and unexplainable.

That day on the beach, we both knew that neither of us was in a good place. My mom lingered near the incoming tides. The swells were well over three feet, yet we braved it in search of something. My mom looked for the odd-ball shells. Her favorite were the dark ones. She said they were mysterious. I was in search of a perfect white shell- my shining pearl of a shell. My mom turned around suddenly and looked at me. I thought she wanted to turn back. It was well past dinnertime and neither of us had eaten all day. When I inquired, she told me to look for a big shell. She wanted one that stood out from the rest. I asked her why, and she responded, “Because I want something special.” And at that very moment, I knew my mom wanted perfection too.

There’s a lot to say about perfection. You can blame eating disorders, psychological diseases, and a whole slue of other things on it. For me, perfection is in grades, appearances, and lifestyles. My room at school is always clean- my books are always aligned, my bed always made, and my face always plastered with a fake smile. Perfection, for me, is getting A’s in my classes and always being there for my friends. Never once had I put myself ahead of anyone else, and it’s finally starting to take a toll on me. Perfection, on the other hand, for my mom is completely different. It’s about being strong and going against the odds. This was set in stone for her the day I was born- when she became a single parent.

Perfection is something type “A” personalities always strive for- but it’s also something Rocks need to master. Perfection, for Rocks, is always being there so someone always has something to lean on. But what happens when the Rock can’t endure anymore? Rocks, too, fall to little pieces once in a great while. My best friend is not a Rock. I am her Rock, and now she has replaced me with a new Rock. Shit happens. I knew it would come sooner or later, and even though nothing happens when someone stands up from a Rock- the Rock has done her job and is useless until a new person needs a post to lean on. I have done my job and been left behind, only living as a mere memory- a faint shadow- if I’m lucky.

However, this is where my newest friend comes in. She is a Rock too. She has always been a Rock and will always be a Rock. It’s amazing when two Rocks find each other. Even if we’re both too stubborn to lean on each other for the sole reason that we are Rocks, it’s nice to have the company. I am a used up Rock. I have nothing left to support anyone- not even myself. So what happens when a Rock crumbles into pieces? Nothing. It ceases to exist. A new Rock comes along. The old Rock is forgotten. But there’s something that’s keeping me together.

My friend, my Rock, is my glue. She’s holding me together. I have no idea why. I can’t believe she’s actually here. And as much as I tell her I’m fine, she doesn’t believe me ever- and rightly so. She is my Rock, and somehow she always insists I am hers. Is it possible that two Rocks can be Rocks for each other? I sure hope it’s possible because it’s happening. I love my Rock. She is my shining star. She is my light at the end of a long, long dark tunnel. I appreciate her so much, and I know I can never repay her- not with words, presents, or actions. Maybe Rocks are meant to find each other. Maybe it won’t be so bad. Maybe Rocks aren’t like the Tin Man from the Wizard of Oz. I don’t know. I am still trying to figure it out for my self. Perfectionists, and Rocks, hate the unknown. Everything that used to be black and white is gray all of the sudden- and all I’m left with is a poem I once heard. It is so true of our friendship, it almost makes me think it was written for us. “I carry your heart. I carry it in my heart.”

Just a girl, just an ordinary girl, just trying to get by . . .

2007-02-07T00:36:00.000-06:00

I find that we like to compare our lives as a feel-better token. We like to sit down with other people and talk about our lives: our ups, our downs, our surprises, our specialties. We like to make ourselves stand out in comparison to others. However, one day, you realize that you are nothing extraordinary. Your downs, well, they're really not that bad. And your ups? Well, they're nothing really significant. As for your talents? Well, there are a hundred other people out there who can do that too, perhaps even better. The fairy tale's not quite how you dreamed it. Maybe you're not a princess and, truly, there is no castle. And happy ever after? Hell, you don't care because you're not even happy right now. Your little method to make yourself feel good just failed, and now you feel worse. You tried to get sympathy, but you just realize there's someone out there worse off than yourself. Maybe you're not as depressed or sick or even happy as you think you are, because guess what- someone is always going to outdo you. And you know what the craziest part is? There are actually people out there who get mad if you don't sit around and chew the fat. There are people that actually get angry when you respond with an answer along the lines of "I'm fine." So why do we share our ups, our downs, our surprises, our specialties? Why do we put ourselves through that everyday realization that we are nothing extraordinary. We are just normal. And while many can find comfort in the norm, there are a handful of us that simply wish to be abnormal. Maybe that want, that desire, is abnormal in itself. What's so wrong with wanting to be extraordinary? We're not talking textbook-type extraordinary, of course, but just an extraordinary that gives us a little individuality- maybe even a little ego boost. Afterall, if we are all just normal, than how can we be unique individuals? Not all of us are programmed to be the norm. If we were all "normal", there wouldn't have been people such as Hilter and Mother Theresa. They were extraordinary. [Note: I never said extraordinary was alined with "good" or "bad."] In this dog-eat-dog world, how far does one have to go to be the cat? So maybe we should just sit around and chew the fat. Maybe that is what makes us extraordinary. Maybe the deep, thoughtful people are of a different breed- or maybe that's what we say to make ourselves feel better. Maybe we lie to ourselves just to make it through the day. Afterall, if there is always someone who is going to outdo you, there's someone out there who is lying to himself moreso than you are. And maybe, we just find comfort in knowing that.

How much is too much . . .

2007-01-23T23:23:00.000-06:00

I consider myself a good person. I work and study hard. I am responsible and reliable. I am a loyal friend and daughter. We all consider ourselves good people, or at least we try to. We give people second chances, and sometimes third and fourths too. What we don't realize in the present moment that some doors need to be closed forever. Sure, we always value our friendships, work relationships, and romantic relationships, but sometimes you have to wonder if you've given people too many chances. You can only give so much love, time, and consideration to people who may not give it back. Of course we don't mind giving ourselves for our friends, but when do you come to a point when you're all used up?

Sweep yesterday's mistakes under tomorrow's carpet . . .

2007-01-16T17:52:00.001-06:00

There's something appealing about new years. Sure, it's an excuse to drink endless champagne- but there's just something appealing about new beginnings and fresh starts. Maybe it's just because it makes you realize everything you'd like to do, but don't. Maybe it's just good timing to start something new. No matter who you are, there's something to be said about letting go of old baggage. Carpe diem. Be a better person. Wave yesterday's shadows goodbye, and welcome tomorrow's morning sun rays. But now matter how hard we try, can we ever let go of the past? I can't help but wonder, can you ever let go of old baggage or does it follow you forever?

And once in a while, people may even take your breath away . . .

2007-01-11T09:56:00.001-06:00

Grey's Anatomy is a great TV show. Every week millions of people sit down and tune in to see what's going to happen next at Seattle Grace and in the lives of the interns, residents, and attendees the show follows. What makes Grey's so appealling to me is the narration done by Meredith Grey. In an episode during the first season, one of these narrations I love so much ended with, "See, once in a while, once in a blue moon people will surprise you. And once in a while, people may even take your breath away."

Today, I had my breath taken away. My friend and I have been friends since we were about 3. We even walked down the kindergarten graduation aisle together. We went to grade school together and high school, and now he's out in California. He's changed a lot since high school- the normal growing up and whatnot. Over this past semester break, he told me something that I thought was quite profound. We didn't talk about it after. And I felt it was necessary to share an e-mail I received from him this morning:

you know what is deep? deep is things that you have found to be true that you are willing to share with others so maybe when they go through something similar it wont be that bad. in this sense your blog is indeed deep. i dont care what you say. kudos to you.

this quote accurately reflects what i believe to date:

"I still love my neighbor as myself, but it is not because God tells me to. It is because in my neighbor I see not the face of God, but my own face. I see another human being in pain and struggling for happiness and peace, and I remember my own suffering, so I reach out. There is indeed goodness in atheism."

so, it doesnt matter to me. for you it is God. i think that is good. for me, it just isnt. sometimes, it even makes me sad that i no can believe, but at the end of the day, i think we both want the same thing. happiness. for ourselves. and for those we love.

and so, that is what i think it means to love and be happy. if you love someone, you want them to be happy and you try to make that be true. of course there are degrees of difference, but i really hope you and i and all the people we care about will surround ourselves with people that promote happiness, goodness, and love.

i consider you my friend, but of course we are 2000 miles away from each other and so there are limitations on what we can do to bring happiness to each other. and so, this is what i'm left with: i hope that you have good friends there, like i have here, and like you have been to me: people that uplift you in all aspects of life.

the end. talk to you later.

That which does not kill you only makes you stronger . . .

2007-01-10T14:31:00.000-06:00

I am not a fan of people that are happy all the time. Personally, I'm not an exceptionally optimistic person; therefore, I do not appreciate being surrounded by such types. Frankly, I can't fathom how someone could be so happy all the time. It's not normal.

However, there is someone I know that displays such characteristics, and I love her to death. I have a friend. Her name is Alex. We met early in our high school careers, but at the end of junior year, our friendship changed. We both attended a retreat together, and we got to know each other a little better. We didn't become best friends, but she was reliable and I loved her for it. Through the rest of junior year and senior year, we met once a week, midway through the week, on Wednesdays just to check in and make sure our lives were going okay. Now, Alex is a strong person. She is fiercely loyal, has a strong faith, and has an optimistic outlook on life. Alex's favorite thing to do is smile and make other people smile too.

I've never met someone like her, even to this day. She's kind of like the real life equivalent of Meredith Grey. Even before Alex started high school, her mom couldn't remember to pick her up. It eventually led to her mom not even being able to recognize her. Her brother was away at college already and her dad had his own medical issues. In other words, Alex was strong. Can you even imagine your own mother not recognizing you? I can't.

After high school, college was a little relief for my friend Alex. Of course, we didn't keep in touch all that well. And honestly, I haven't seen her since graduation. Sure, facebook always helps relationships, but we never had an extremely strong one to begin with. Nonetheless, a little e-mail here and there kept both of us somewhat up-to-date.

The most recent e-mail I've seen about Alex was in November. She was studying in DC for the semester, and had to be rushed into emergency surgery. She had a tumor. All the DC doctors said it was benine. A few weeks after surgery, she came home and a follow-up appointment revealed that the tumor was malignant. Alex has ovarian cancer. She is undergoing 7 weeks of intensive chemotherapy. She had chemo through Christmas, her birthday, and New Year. She cannot return to school this semester. Yet, she still remains with a smile and keeps in touch through chemo, and still asks me about my personal life and if there's anything she can do to help.

Alex is my inspiration. When she told me she had cancer, she did not know that I was diagnosed with the same tumors- the same cancer. Over the summer, when I was going through my radiation, I was angry, frustrated, and frightened. Alex is kicking cancer's butt with a smile on her face. She's already suffered so much and had so many life experiences that some of us will never have to deal with ever in our lives. Her mother is now in a nursing home, and Alex hasn't seen her in a good 6 months. And yet, she's kicking cancer's butt with a smile on her face. She is still fiercely loyal, strong in her faith, and still has an optimistic outlook on life. She gives new meaning to the phrase 'what does not kill me makes me stronger.'

But I can't help but wonder, why do bad things happen to such good people?

There's something to be said about a glass half full . . .

2007-01-03T09:53:00.000-06:00

Sometimes we can't help but throw a pity party for ourselves. We know it's not right, and we know it's somewhat pathetic, but sometimes it just feels so good to feel sorry for yourself. It feels like a natural reaction- the response to fight or flight that is the easiest. And once you give in, it's that much harder to stop. It's almost as if you just get sucked under by the current and then you just begin to drown. You can kick and kick and kick and fight to get back to the surface, but there just seems to be something in your very essense that says you can't get afloat again. Maybe it's not even a pity party. Sitting down and facing reality sucks. Plain and simple. Maybe those who feel awful all the time are really the ones who have the greatest grip on life and on reality. Afterall, from the minute you're born you are dying. It's like buying a car: as soon as you drive it off the lot, the car's value keeps decreasing in a downward spiral. Maybe we're like that. Maybe once we're exposed to the world, we just start going in a downward spiral until someone saves us or we die. All it takes is someone to reach out into that black abyss. Maybe all we really want in life is that anchor, that person that will save us. Someone who knows we're drowning without even being told. And maybe those of us who throw that pity party are coping because we haven't been saved yet. Our knight in shining armour hasn't come on his nobel mount. And maybe.. just maybe.. the pity party is so appealing because it feels so good when it's over. It's just a quick round of who's life sucks the most. It's like that quote.. Why do we keep hitting ourselves with a hammer? Because it feels so damn good when we stop.

This isn't a 'Please Write This Down' kind of thing . . .

2007-01-02T10:05:00.000-06:00

This isn't going to be anything profound. It's not going to be my desperate outreach or a cry for help or any of your business really. It's not going to be revelations or anything quotable. It's not going to be life lessons or future tidings. Frankly, I don't believe in blogs. The very thought of putting yourself- your thoughts, emotions, feelings- out there on the internet, of all places, is a little profound in itself. However, it's convinent and quick and accessable. So, if you can't beat em, join em, right? After all, it's the end of an era and a beginning of a new decade.