tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-88803076336205096532024-02-08T08:02:21.082-08:00Lemons to LemonadeLizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01444522350509731089noreply@blogger.comBlogger14125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8880307633620509653.post-74750957288559617772014-03-20T12:44:00.001-07:002014-03-20T12:44:09.515-07:00Liz Pack: Improving Self-Improvment<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Comedic
timing is a blessing and a curse. It is the proverbial two edged sword. And it
is far more powerful a tool than people imagine it to be. Firstly, it is
seemingly harmless. “Yeah, that guy’s funny, whatever.” Then it becomes more
sinister, “Ok, so maybe laughing at that isn’t very nice…” Then, “Wow, that guy
is a big jerk.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The
problem is that comedy is a tool of thought. It alters ideas. It highlights
aspects of our daily lives. It glosses over pivotal points. It occasionally generalizes
to achieve its ends. It can make people happy. It can make people sad. It can
make people angry. Basically, it messes with your brain. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 200%;">So,
here’s the trouble. </span><span style="line-height: 32px;">I've</span><span style="line-height: 200%;"> noticed that my thoughts are often considered funny.
Ok, that was a modest way of putting it. </span></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 32px;">I've</span></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 200%;"> noticed that people laugh at some
of the things that I say, and I take way too much pride in my ability to make
those people laugh. Sometimes this is wonderful. I have a skill that has the
power to bring a little sunlight into other people’s lives. Sometimes it’s a
bad thing. Like, when I unconsciously hurt another person. Or worse, when I
consciously hurt another person.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Most
of all, my particular brand of comedy functions in one unmistakable way. It is
my mask. A very unsubtle mask, really, because I usually say exactly what I
think, except that I say it in a funny voice, or I say it by quoting a movie,
or I dip what I’m saying in a heavy dose of sarcasm. What I really think
becomes obscured by the laughter it evokes. Suddenly, truth becomes a joke. Kind
of a sinister way of looking at it, right?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Why
am I writing about this? Well, I think it’s about time the mask came off. I
could be using my skills for more productive things, like helping people,
instead of expending all of my comedic resource on hiding who I actually am.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">There
are a few obstacles. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Firstly,
I’m just barely starting to recognize when I do this. Becoming more self-aware
isn’t exactly easy, and most of the time it’s incredibly unpleasant. I try to
avoid it as much as I possibly can, so overcoming this obstacle is difficult. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Nextly,
I really like saying funny things, like seriously you guys, it’s awesome. I’m a
human, and usually when humans are good at things they like to do them because
they enjoy the attention that said things can get them. In other words, “I’m so
vain, did you know that this song is about me?” (that bit was meant to be sung
to the tune of “You’re so Vain,” in case any of you were in doubt).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Lastly,
changing is hard. I’m probably gonna have to work and think and apologize and rebalance
and I don’t wanna. Wah. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Sixthly,
I’m impatient. I just want to be perfect and I want it to happen right now.
Woof. Dealing with myself is a lot like dealing with an obstinate two year old
sometimes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 200%;">So,
yeah, these are my self-improvement thoughts of the moment. As Shang said, “We've</span></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 200%;"> got a long way to go.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">P.S.
If anyone can tell me where I got the whole “firstly, nextly, lastly, sixthly”
thing I will give them a coupon for a lifetime supply of free high fives.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01444522350509731089noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8880307633620509653.post-44499017825091842622013-11-30T21:18:00.001-08:002013-11-30T21:18:09.350-08:00A More Positive View Ok, ok. I understand that my previous post was a bit whiny and a bit out of character. The good news is that a few hours after that post I was in a much better mood and I wrote this more positive companion poem for the first one.<br />
<br />
<b>An Appropriate Cliche</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
I want<br />
too many things.<br />
It's easy to be<br />
distracted by that.<br />
<br />
As Ms. Austen would say,<br />
a social defect with no cure,<br />
such as selfishness,<br />
must always be forgiven.<br />
<br />
I'm not above using a<br />
limpworn phrase to say it.<br />
<br />
I want you to be happy.<br />
<br />
If taking myself out of the equation accomplishes that,<br />
then I am willing to oblige.<br />
<br />
getting angry isn't fair.<br />
an apology is appropriate<br />
<br />
Self-reflection somehow results<br />
in humble pie<br />
<br />
if I can keep my foot<br />
out of my mouth long enough<br />
to get a bitter taste of<br />
regret and fruit filling<br />
then maybe I'll have time to add:<br />
<br />
the best things in life are free,<br />
especially from strings,<br />
and my friendship is definitely one of<br />
the best things in life.<br />
<br />
<br />
I hope that was a bit reassuring.Lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01444522350509731089noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8880307633620509653.post-39338442916004732432013-11-30T10:41:00.002-08:002013-11-30T10:41:43.920-08:00The Push AwayIt's not like this blog has a specific purpose anyway, but here I go in another random direction. This is a poem. I don't pretend to be a master, but I needed these words to be out there, whether they were read or not.<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<b>Get Ready for the Push Away</b></div>
<div>
I can only call this thing</div>
<div>
messed up</div>
<div>
so many times.</div>
<div>
Passive aggressive, I know,</div>
<div>
but I'm walking away.</div>
<div>
I know you won't follow,</div>
<div>
but nothing less than being </div>
<div>
locked out</div>
<div>
will make you</div>
<div>
want in.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
We've spoken</div>
<div>
We've laughed</div>
<div>
We've shared</div>
<div>
everything adds up.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
But you won't do the math</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Not that it should be math...</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Like Elizabeth Browning, I'm not sure love can or should be quantified.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Love doesn't run out anyway,</div>
<div>
because it's not like a </div>
<div>
shampoo bottle</div>
<div>
that you use</div>
<div>
until it's</div>
<div>
empty</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
It's like an empty book</div>
<div>
that you fill with words and</div>
<div>
images. You can close it, but you </div>
<div>
never run out of pages, you never run out...</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So, how do I love you?</div>
<div>
As far as the distance to your door.</div>
<div>
Any further is more than you want.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Choosing to end it, choosing to close the book,</div>
<div>
makes it finite, measurable, quantifiable.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Oh, look! I guess I quantified it in the end.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Not light-hearted, I know, but I was feeling a bit inspired. I suppose my habit of running away came in handy for something. Ummm... something less angsty next time, I promise.</div>
Lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01444522350509731089noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8880307633620509653.post-65128798838048267212013-08-03T07:09:00.000-07:002013-08-03T07:09:07.598-07:00The Game<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">This post is about dating. Now, before you all start rolling your eyes and stop reading, just hear me out, because I think this is a unique(ish) way of looking at things, and if you don't get a laugh out of it then you can stop following me. It's not like I'm religious about posting on this thing anyway...</span><div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Dating is a game. I've always found this to be an incredibly frustrating aspect of dating, but time and again I have come to find that it's pretty true. Why is it frustrating to me? Well, I'm not competitive, I'm no good with strategy, I lack confidence, and in general I would just like everything to be easy (whatever happened to the idea of two people genuinely just liking each other and wanting to spend time together? Or rather, why does it take so much work to get to that?). Unfortunately, it's not easy. It's awful.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Here's the honest truth. I haven't tried very hard to date. Not really. I'm so scared of the actual real dating concept that if an opportunity arises I usually run as fast as my average length legs can carry me in the opposite direction. But from my observations (and advice I was given that I ultimately haven't taken yet) I have come to a conclusion. Dating <i>is </i>a game, but it's not the game everyone seems to think it is.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I used to think dating was like chess. You out-maneuver your opponent until they are finally caught in an impossible position, then you win. As a girl, it is all about being just forward enough to get your point across without being pushy or creepy, as a boy it's all about having all of the right lines and the right gestures. This outlook was a bit cynical, especially if you consider how much I dislike playing chess (mostly because I've only ever played it three times in my life and I never really had a clue what was going on. You can know how the pieces move and still be completely lost). </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Recently (last night), I came to the conclusion that dating is like the Pokemon card game. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Pretend with me, for a moment, that you are a Pokemon. As a Pokemon you have a card and that card describes how much power you have and what your special abilities are. When you are played against other Pokemon cards the winner is determined by how much power and ability you have (as well as some luck. Unfortunately, every game requires a little luck). </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">So, the point is that you need to make your Pokemon card as awesome as possible. You need to think about your perfect girl/guy (who is imperfect, because no one wants to date a robot), then you need to consider what kind of partner this girl/guy would find irresistible. Then you need to strive to become that person.<span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"> You’re still you, but like a Pokemon, you
evolve and become more powerful and harder to beat (not to mention, rarer and
more worth having). Not only that, but you get the added bonus of being a
pretty awesome person, because let’s face it, the girl/guy of your dreams </span><span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 17px;">wouldn't</span><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"> find anything less than awesome irresistible.</span> </span></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
Lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01444522350509731089noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8880307633620509653.post-82778986106240307872013-02-27T13:24:00.002-08:002013-02-27T13:24:50.090-08:00LiteratureOk, I'm an English major. I admit it.<br />
There are a few things that I've learned about life in my time as an English major. First: English majors are an interesting group of humans. We analyze literature and write about it and no one seems to understand why, but once you learn these skills you can't seem to stop. Second: Despite being misunderstood, analyzing literature can actually be quite helpful (and fun!).<br />
I had to read Hamlet recently. Now, Shakespeare can be a challenge, even for an English major, but I learned some pretty important stuff about myself, and everyone else, from studying this play, so I thought I'd share my findings.<br />
Hamlet is an unfortunate prince who finds out from a ghost that his uncle killed his father. This information causes Hamlet to go into deep thought about, well, everything. "What's so great about humans? Is death better? What is fidelity anyway? Should I kill my uncle?" are just a few of the things Hamlet contemplates. He also spends much of the play acting a little crazy and telling his girlfriend to get to a nunnery. In the end Hamlet, his girlfriend, his uncle/step-dad, his mother, his girlfriend's father, and his girlfriend's brother all die (also Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, but nobody really thinks about those two).<br />
What do people think Hamlet's problem is? Well, he thinks too much. He hesitates to act. And people die because of it (sort of).<br />
Now, I don't have any big moral issues to argue with myself about. I'm not trying to decide if it's a good idea to kill my uncle or if I think ghosts are real. I have, however, been hesitating over some pretty important decisions. I know for a fact that I've thought too much about these choices. How do I know that? Well, there has literally been some crying and rocking back and forth on the floor about these things going on. The truth is that I've known what I needed to do all along, I've just been putting it off trying to decide if it's really the right thing. So I had a similar problem to Hamlet. I was thinking more than I was acting (a lot more in fact), but after seeing my actions reflected so well in this play I came to realize that my hesitation was silly, my freak outs were pointless, and my choices were good ones. I just needed to act, and stop thinking about it.<br />
I guess there are two points to this post. First: Once you know what you've got to do, stop thinking about it. You'll only mess yourself up with too much thinking. Second: Analyzing plays and books and poems can teach us about ourselves and help us live our lives more effectively. So don't sit around wondering why English majors only read books all the time, it's more productive than you might think.<br />
Happy thought of the day? Read a book. You might learn something!Lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01444522350509731089noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8880307633620509653.post-88826513826180245542011-11-09T09:23:00.000-08:002011-11-09T09:23:22.193-08:00StrangersThey say that strangers are just friends you haven't met yet. I say that strangers are people whose insanity you haven't yet experienced.<br />
People are crazy. This is an undeniable truth, and for some reason everyone has decided that they can let their freak flag fly freely in front of me when I've only just met them. Strangers confide in me all the time for some reason, and I must admit that this is one of the most enjoyable things about my life.<br />
One of the best places to meet people is through your local public transportation. I must admit that this is where my newest 'friends' have come from, and some of their stories are kind of hilarious. I shall start with the most recent one.<br />
<u><b>Woody</b></u><br />
I met Woody on Saturday, November 5 and this is sort of how it went down.<br />
I'd had a class that day (which, by the way, is a slight injustice, considering that it was Saturday) and I was quite excited to get home where I was planning on sleeping and catching up on my Spider Solitaire. I got on the bus with the intention of staring blankly out the window until my thoughts became nothing but images attached to vague memories and emotions, but it was when I was choosing my seat that I made the fatal mistake. As I scanned the plethora of empty seats an old man caught my attention for an instant, and being the kind person that I am I gave him a friendly smile. I then chose the seat directly behind him and got ready for some nice spacing out. Unfortunately I think my smile had given Woody the wrong impression about my intentions, because he promptly turned around and made a joke about the weather.<br />
Strangers, particularly old people, like to make jokes about the weather as their opening line. Why? For two reasons I think. Firstly, people want to start out with a joke because they think it makes them seem clever and interesting. Secondly, since they don't know you, and therefore they don't know if you have anything in common, they have to go with something everyone in your area can connect to, like the weather.<br />
Sorry, I went off for a second. So, Woody made a joke about the weather, which I politely laughed at (because weather jokes aren't very funny or clever, but you must laugh because you know it is a joke). But Woody had an interesting habit that captured my attention and made the rest of our conversation hard to focus on. You see, when Woody talks he likes to hold his hand up to his face like he's telling you a secret, even though he is talking quite loudly, and the subject matter of his conversations are not very secretive.<br />
Since Woody is an old man who tells unamusing weather jokes you can easily guess what our conversation was about. He proceeded to tell me stories about his grandfather who was wealthy but liked to wear coveralls and lurk suspiciously in public places, so he was often arrested and promptly set free when they realized how important he was. This, I admit, was mildly interesting, although it could have been tremendously hilarious with the right delivery. The most amusing part of our conversation was the fact that he was acting like everything he was saying was a secret when in reality it wasn't. In the end I have to say that I thought Woody was a nice old man and I wouldn't mind talking to him again. Grandfather stories are fun, and quirky people are funner (not a word, but I'm going with it)<br />
<u><b>Jeremy</b></u><br />
I met Jeremy on the bus as well, sometime in September, and his story is quite interesting as well.<br />
I was reading <u>The Three Musketeers</u> by Alexander Dumas at the time and I was very obviously not interested in talking to anyone. Or at least, I thought this was obvious. I generally don't talk to people who are reading on the bus, even if I know them, so I was surprised when I heard a voice say, "That is a really good book."<br />
I looked up and was even more surprised to find that the person who had said this was wearing a skull shirt, baggy pants, a chain, a sideways hat, and was sporting some rather impressive facial hair. I know it is wrong to judge people, and I am sad to admit that I was pleasantly surprised that Jeremy had read the book I was reading because I wouldn't have expected it from someone who looked like him.<br />
"Yes," I said, "I enjoy it." But I was anxious to keep reading (if you know me, you know not to bother me when I'm reading, but Jeremy didn't know me, so I guess I can't hold it against him), so I promptly turned my eyes back to the page.<br />
"Of course," he continued, "I like <u>The Count of Monte Cristo</u> better, but that one is still fantastic."<br />
I gave a mental sigh and put my book aside. Jeremy was intent on talking to me, and I try to be a classy, sociable person, so I had no choice (I sometimes curse my desire to be classy and sociable).<br />
We talked a little bit more about Alexander Dumas but the conversation quickly evolved into a list of the reasons why Jeremy's life is unfair. Jeremy's life is unfair, I am completely on board with that statement, but listening to him talk about it was not what I wanted to be doing when I could be reading about fencing and romance instead.<br />
Ok, so I just realized that a lot of the things I am saying may make me sound like a terrible person. I want to quickly interject and remind you that this is my happy thought of the day. I truly enjoy these strange stranger moments, and I love meeting new people, especially when they are funny, and I am sure there are plenty of people who could write amusing anecdotes about me, so if Jeremy, Woody, and Jonathan (who I will write about in a moment) are out there reading this (which I sort of doubt) I want you to know that it was a pleasure, truly to meet you, and I think you are wonderful people.<br />
Ok, so, I was listening to Jeremy telling me about his life being unfair, which I already agreed with, but I'm not entirely sure if it is acceptable to tell a complete stranger about your criminal record, no matter how unfair it is. But it's his criminal record, he can tell anyone he wants.<br />
The funniest part of this conversation was that I didn't actually know Jeremy's name until he had told me about his criminal record, which seems a little out of order to me.<br />
I still see and speak to Jeremy quite often, because we ride the same bus to get home, and I like seeing him because he always has a warm greeting for me.<br />
<u><b>Jonathan</b></u><br />
I didn't meet Jonathan on the bus, I met him at Scout Camp, where hilarious things happen hourly.<br />
I worked in the Trading Post and taught Indian Lore and Sculpture at a scout camp this last summer and I love doing it so much even though the hours are long and the pay is just a little bit pathetic. One week, near the end of the summer, there was this kid named Jonathan. He came into the Trading Post on Monday that week, and yours truly was the lucky cashier who rang him up. First of all, he's an adorable kid. Very open, very happy to be wherever his is, and very positive about everything. The first thing Jonathan said to me as I typed in the prices of his items in our ancient cash register was, "You guys are so nice up here."<br />
Since this wasn't a very personal compliment I tried to go for an appropriately impersonal response, "We try." I said with a smile.<br />
"Yeah, I'm am just so happy right now because my dad just had surgery on his prostate cancer and he's gonna be ok. So now I'm not worried or scared, I'm just happy."<br />
I don't understand why people share the most intimate details of their lives with me.<br />
I was sincerely happy for him, because cancer is a scary thing, and I know what it's like to lose a loved one, so worrying about losing a loved one must be terrible and the relief of them being ok must be wonderful.<br />
The problem with Jonathan being so open about sharing his life story with me was that we were in the middle of a huge rush in the Trading Post, and so I didn't exactly have time to listen to him tell me about his family's vacation to the Grand Canyon.<br />
But, as I said before, his tendency towards TMI was kind of cute and he was my favorite scout that week.<br />
Strangers are my happy thought of the day because they bring color and variety to your life. My suggestion to you would be to go out and meet someone new every day, because you never know when someone new my confuse and delight you.<br />
Have a happy day, you deserve it.Lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01444522350509731089noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8880307633620509653.post-11080952130100924952011-10-31T13:23:00.000-07:002011-10-31T13:23:55.544-07:00Happy Thoughts of the DayI've decided that now might be a good time to come up with a general purpose for this blog. I've actually been thinking about this for a while, and an idea came to me suddenly on day when I was writing a letter. I have this friend who is living in Japan at the moment and I write him letters whenever it strikes my fancy or whenever I happen to have time. In most of my letters I like to add a section titled: Random Happy Thoughts. This, I admit, is one of my favorite parts of writing these letters, and I don't think he really minds it either. As I was writing this section the other day I had the brilliant idea of expanding it into a blog-like genre, so here we are. From now on this blog will be entirely about happy thoughts from yours truly, and I'm pretty excited about that!<br />
My happy thought for today is exact change. I had the blessing of being able to go to an ice cream shop today with two of my friends. This is a blessing for two reasons. Reason number one: I had time to be with my friends. Reason number two: I had money to go to an ice cream shop. Oh, the simple joys of college life!<br />
Anyway, as I went to pay for my one scoop of 'Praline Pecan' (which is redundant, by the way) ice cream and the cashier told me that my total was $2.25 I realized the joy of having exact change. I happened to have two dollar bills and a quarter waiting patiently in my wallet at that very moment, and as I reached in and pulled them out and handed them to the cashier I recieved the glow that only a small, simple miracle can bring you.<br />
Exact change is awesome for several reasons. Firstly, it makes your life easier. You don't have to worry about getting a ton of change back, and having to carry it around in your purse all the time. Also, paying with cash always feels a bit more honest to me, and having exact change is almost as convenient as using a debit or credit card, which is a double pro if you ask me.<br />
Secondly, it makes the cashier's life easier. Have you ever been a cashier? I have, and I know how that moment when you're getting their change for them can feel like a millenium if you're in a hurry. You know, that moment when everything but your hands seems to go in fast-forward while your fingers fumble and shake in slow-motion? Yeah, it's not a fun feeling, especially when the person you're trying to help is being impatient about it. This is another reason why exact change is so awesome, because it completely eliminates that moment from the transaction. You give your money to the cashier, they put it in the register, moment over. Convenient, huh?<br />
And finally, exact change is happy because it puts the stamp of approval on your purchase. For instance, I was feeling a little bad about buying ice cream because it's unhealthy and it's a little extravagant, but having the exact change I needed for it was like divine providence saying, "Hey, it's ok to buy this ice cream. You deserve it." Having exact change is like destiny saying that this moment was meant to be, because everything worked out perfectly. That's right, that ice cream tasted better because it had the sparkle of hope for a perfect future. Everything in my life before had led up to this moment, and everything in my life after would just fall in to place because of it.<br />
Yes, exact change made me happy today, and I hope that exact change will make you happy from now on, because when you think about it, it's pretty joyful.<br />
Have a wonderful day. You deserve it!Lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01444522350509731089noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8880307633620509653.post-15133510390200299572011-04-06T13:59:00.000-07:002011-04-06T13:59:29.367-07:00DiscouragedIt seems to me that the hardest times in my life are the times when I am sincerely trying to improve. This alone could make a person convert to apathy.<br />
I suppose not trying would make things a lot easier. But I have a feeling that in the end I would only hate myself and everyone around me. Because I don't really think it's possible to be stagnant in life. You're either progressing or regressing. And usually, when you're not trying, that means you're regressing.<br />
So does that mean all of life is one long uphill battle where you either keep climbing or roll back down to the bottom of the hill? Are we all just unfortunate hikers who climb endlessly towards a non-existant summit? Am I always going to work hard towards my goals, only to find out that I am, once again, sub-par?<br />
Nope. I won't accept it. There has to be a better way. There has to be a way to progress without discouragement. There have to be smaller summits along the way. Places to rest when you are weary, or to celebrate when you have passed a big milestone. I am sure there are such summits in our life climbs. I am sure I will reach one soon enough. If I can just be patient with myself, and understand that I am not going to be perfect, then I am positive that things will get better. And with an attitude like that, maybe the climb itself won't be half bad either.<br />
<br />
P.S. I must say that this particular post reminds me of a Miley Cyrus song. Which is the most discouraging thing about it.Lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01444522350509731089noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8880307633620509653.post-47536725039089969802011-03-24T08:10:00.000-07:002011-03-24T08:10:28.903-07:00The NestLately I've been thinking that spring isn't ever going to really come. It just feels like every time it seems to get close a storm gets in the way and ruins everything. That seems to be the problem with both spring and love. The moment you start to hope something comes along to break your heart.<div>I've felt almost exactly the same about life. My soul seemed to be in a wintery rut of sorts. I couldn't seem to find a way past my icy doubts to hope for the future.</div><div>Then this morning, as I walked home, I caught sight of something that surprised me. There was a storm on the way, you could feel it in the wind, but just as I was thinking this I saw a bird flying with a long twig in it's beak. I stared in wonder for a moment. I have never seen a bird preparing a nest before. </div><div>This is when I got to thinking. The bird, like Noah's dove, had brought me hope for a spring that I couldn't quite see at that moment. Surely if the birds know it's time to settle down then it's certainly a good time to start making some plans of my own. </div><div>Nature it so great.</div>Lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01444522350509731089noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8880307633620509653.post-86450169004854202582011-02-24T07:56:00.000-08:002011-02-24T07:56:14.974-08:00FritosI have to say, first off, that this isn't as much a post as it is a short story I wrote last year that I really like. I hope you enjoy!<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><b>Fritos</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;">It all started with the Fritos. It was the Fritos that took the warmth of dislike and fanned it into a flame of passionate hatred.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">You see, we started dating. He was relatively attractive and I was naive. I liked him, I really did, but one day we were hanging out and he had these Fritos. I love Fritos, so I went to grab some. He firmly shook his head.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">"I never share my Fritos."</div><div style="text-align: justify;">And from that moment on our relationship has just gone downhill. There he sat, talking and laughing with his mouth full of Fritos like he ruled the world. Crunching them with his mouth wide open, rubbing his enjoyment in my hungry face.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">I know it's irrational, but I hated him.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">"I never share my Fritos."? What kind of rule was that? An idiot rule, that's what.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Oh, how I hated him.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Ever since then I found more reasons to hate him. He irons his towels, and his second toe is bigger than the first, and sometimes he says I'm crazy.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">That's why I went to his house today with a bag of poisoned Fritos. I just smiled, handed them too him, and said good bye.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">So, that's about it. It's a really, really, short story. But I found it amusing, so hopefully you did too. Anyway, I'm off.</div>Lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01444522350509731089noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8880307633620509653.post-58932767792501955262011-02-20T20:34:00.000-08:002011-02-20T20:34:21.950-08:00The Perils of DatingI am perfectly willing to admit that I don't really enjoy being single. Not to say that I am unhappy about it, or that I let it ruin my life. But it's not really my favorite thing either.<br />
Now we get to the dilemma. I don't know how to get out of being single because in order to be in a relationship you have to start with dating (gulp).<br />
Come now, and let us be honest with ourselves. Dating, no matter how casual it is, is kind of a scary prospect. And not just because it has the potential of leading to some kind of commitment. With every date you have the very real possibility of running into one or all of the following unpleasant experiences.<br />
<b><i><u>The Awkward Silence</u></i></b><br />
This particular peril generally occurs when you decide to be brave and ask that cute person in you math class that you barely know. The problem? You don't really know them and therefore don't really know if you have <i>anything</i> in common. These moments go something like this.<br />
"So...."<br />
"....yeah...."<br />
"How about that math test last week?"<br />
"Ummm..... Good.... I guess."<br />
Suddenly you're talking about math, and that, my friends, does not really make for a romantic first date. Unless of course you really like math. Then I guess this kind of date would be positively idyllic for you.<br />
<b><i><u>The Motor Mouth</u></i></b><br />
If you have a firm "no cute person from math class" policy then this peril might be the one you face the most. This generally occurs when you or your date is trying to avoid <b><i><u>The Awkward Silence</u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal;">. </span></i></b><br />
<b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal;">The basic idea is that one of you is talking so much, and so rapidly, that the other can't really get a word in edgewise. There are several problems with this. Firstly, one of you isn't talking. Secondly, the person talking looks stupid, self-centered, and really nervous. Thirdly, the looking stupid and feeling nervous often leads the person talking to really strange topics. These moments look something like this:</span></i></b><br />
<b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal;">"... and that's why I've never really understood Wiccans. Anyway, that's really all I have to say about that. So, have you ever been clamming? Really? That's odd. I hear it's a messy business anyway. You know my brother? The one in Australia? Yeah, he's pretty cool...etc."</span></i></b><br />
<b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal;">Now, I plead guilty for this particular crime. But I cry mercy as well. If you ever happen to be on a date with me, or even having a simple conversation, just shut me up. Change the subject, and talk rationally about something... well, normal.</span></i></b><br />
<b><i><u>The Unequal Attraction</u></i></b><br />
<b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal;">This one has very little to do with the two above. This happens when you didn't really even know the asker existed until they asked you.</span></i></b><br />
<b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal;">This situation generally reveals itself in this way:</span></i></b><br />
<b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal;">It's the end of the night and he is bringing you to the front step. You sigh in relief. This has been the longest hour of your life.</span></i></b><br />
<b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal;">You get to your door and you turn to each other.</span></i></b><br />
<b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal;">"So..."</span></i></b><br />
<b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal;">"...yeah...."</span></i></b><br />
<b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal;">"I had a fantastic time!" He says enthusiastically.</span></i></b><br />
<b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal;">"...Me too." You reply, less enthusiastically.</span></i></b><br />
<b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal;">Then he hugs you, and it's one of those long, drawn-out, hugs. Suddenly you realize that he actually thought this was a good date, and you're rapidly trying to think of a good excuse to avoid another one.</span></i></b><br />
<b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal;">"So what are you doing next Saturday?" He asks hopefully.</span></i></b><br />
<b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal;">"Oh, darn. I'm going to be waterskiing with my second cousin who just got back from his foreign exchange program in Hong Kong."</span></i></b><br />
<b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal;">"That's too bad..." He says dejectedly, "How about the Saturday after that?"</span></i></b><br />
<b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal;">"Oh, well, my grandma is getting surgery....etc."</span></i></b><br />
<b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal;">Generally, in these situations, I would go with these two bits of advice. Firstly, maybe just go on the second date, and if it sucks again then you can go with my second bit of advice which is be honest. Just say, "Hey, these dates have really sucked, never talk to me again." Or something like that.</span></i></b><br />
<b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal;"><br />
</span></i></b><br />
<b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal;">In conclusion I have one thing to say. Dating is a necessary evil. We all have to eventually go through this extremely awkward, and momentously unpleasant, experience. But I have advice to help with that too.</span></i></b><br />
<b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal;">First off, go into it with the idea that you genuinely want to get to know the other person. If you start thinking about the other person positively then the whole thing will go a lot better, and trust me, you'll enjoy it a whole lot more. To go along with the first one, have several very thoughtful questions planned for when you experience the awkward silence. Think of questions that will get the other person talking, not just questions that require one word answers. And if, in the end, you're really not attracted to the person, then at least you've made a pretty awesome friend.</span></i></b><br />
<b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal;">There now, that didn't hurt so bad.</span></i></b>Lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01444522350509731089noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8880307633620509653.post-82682048323502357812011-01-05T19:21:00.000-08:002011-01-05T19:21:38.912-08:00These Are the MomentsI am now a firm believer in the ability of a single moment to change you forever. And growing up isn't a steady, even, process. You can have a short period of steady growth, followed by a random spurt, followed by one of those vital moments that changes you so much more than the other two put together. <br />
Sometimes these moments are terrible and scary. For instance my life has been very changed since the moment I saw my brother doubled over in tears in the hospital. It was the moment that I knew my father was gone, and the moment was dark with grief and sadness.<br />
But other times, like today, these moments are full of unspeakable joy. <br />
I have the great priviledge of being my best friend's maid of honor in her upcoming marriage. This is kind of scary to me because it feels weird for her to be getting engaged when I still feel so young. Today I had the opportunity to go dress shopping with her. Which was fun if only because I am a girl. <br />
After an hour of looking and trying on she emerged from the dressing room in a dress that looked just about the same as all the other dresses, at least to me. But as she stood in front of the mirrors with the lights shining on her the dress seemed to look a lot more special to me, and not because the dress really seemed that different but because I could tell that she loved it. Her joy about the dress seemed to light the dress up, as well as make her look more beautiful than any dress could ever manage. <br />
Then I realized something. As I watched her eyes fill up with tears, and as I beamed in approval at her happiness, I decided that the only thing that really makes anyone or anything special is someone loving them. You can make anything important by loving it. <br />
My doubts about her age and her choice slipped quietly out of my mind as I realized that she had made him special by loving him, and she felt that he had made her special by loving her. Though, I loved her first, so she has been special to me for much longer than she knows. <br />
It's like a song lyric I have always loved. "Happiness is anyone or anything at all that's loved by you."<br />
The thing about these moments is that the moment isn't necessarily the most important part. It's what you make of the moment that decides how much it changed you. With this moment I have decided that I am going to be more generous with the love that I give. I've got a lot to offer people. And what do I have to lose?Lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01444522350509731089noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8880307633620509653.post-50301818014229129342010-12-25T16:18:00.000-08:002010-12-25T16:18:45.609-08:00It's the Most Wonderful Time of the YearChristmas is awesome! I am sure most will agree, except for those of you celebrating other holidays. But even if you don't appreciate Christmas you can't help but appreciate some of the results. I mean, who doesn't enjoy a gift or two? And the holiday season can really bring out the best in some people. So even if you don't celebrate it, you can at least respect that it is a holiday dedicated to giving, despite the fact that it has turned into a retail nightmare.<br />
I am spending Christmas with my older sister, her little family, and my mother. It has been pretty rewarding so far. I spent my morning watching two adorable children open gifts and get enthused about Santa Claus. Victory. <br />
Santa Claus is a brilliant ploy. I mean really, what better way to get your children to stop being bad and to stop crying? "Sally, if you're not nice to your little brother then Santa won't give you any presents, and, Tommy, you know that Santa doesn't like pouty faces. Will he have to leave you a lump of coal this year?" Our ancestors knew what they were doing when they came up with that one.<br />
As to giving, I'm not really sure I'm that great at it yet. I mean, I enjoy giving, but I'm not sure if the people receiving are really enjoying what I give. This, I suppose, could be a great New Year's Resolution.... I must think more on that one. The good news is that this year, at least, I just had my sister, her husband, and her kids, none of which are hard to please. A board game, a truck, a Strawberry Shortcake doll, and one free babysitting coupon later and I was set. But even with all of those gifts I ended up having to ask what I should get and where I should go to find it. A true gift giver knows what the person wants already, and wouldn't give the surprise away by asking about it. And the best gifts really do come from the heart. Giving someone what they want from a retail store isn't the same as giving them what they need from your own two hands. <br />
To improve our giving I suggest looking to the ultimate giving example. Our Saviour, Jesus Christ. He is the reason for the season after all. His sacrifice for us, given out of pure love, is what leads us to the greatest gift of all: Eternal Life. And pure love, charity, is why we give in the first place. Gifts should be a symbol of the love we feel that we can't express in any other way. Sometimes words are not enough.<br />
So, although it is a bit late to do anything about this year's Christmas, it might be a good idea to consider these things for next year. Not to say that I've got this whole thing completely figured out yet myself, but I think as a society in general we could improve on our giving skills, because giving is a skill. I only know a few people who were just born with the talent.<br />
To finish off, I would just like to wish you all a Merry Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanza, etc. and a Happy New Year (unless of course you're Chinese, because you don't celebrate it at the same time).<br />
P.S. Do you love how my entire post was about Jesus Christ, and then at the end I tried to be politically correct? Wow, I did a good job on that one.Lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01444522350509731089noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8880307633620509653.post-39077166744142538082010-12-23T18:50:00.000-08:002010-12-23T18:50:57.806-08:00December 23, 2010 Garage ThoughtsIn an attempt to be proper, or, at least, in an attempt to not confuse you, I will begin this blog with an introduction. I am a relatively sane, healthy, normal, American girl. I enjoy sleeping, eating, breathing, and pretty much anything else required for living. When I am not engaged in these activities I can generally be found singing, writing, acting, crocheting, and attending Super Awesome University. I am the youngest of eight children, which means that my mother was pregnant for a total of six whole years of her life. Yeah, ouch.<div>This blog is primarily for my own enjoyment. I know, how selfish of me. Mostly it will just be filled with the strange and terrible thoughts I come up with throughout my days, and if you don't find that interesting... well, that sucks. I'm going to write anyway.</div><div>I have recently been heavily involved with helping my mother move from 2000 sq feet to 120 sq ft. This task has included a lot of heavy lifting on my part and I have found myself wishing that I had the money to hire two burly men named Merv and Spike to do the lifting for me, but alas, like most college students I am completely broke.</div><div>Today was a joyous day though, because I have finally moved the last of my mother's stuff into my sister's garage, so at last my part of this great undertaking is done. But as I was moving boxes of seemingly worthless junk into the garage I thought that the back of our minds are a lot like little storage units for the thoughts we don't use. We carelessly box up our little used thoughts and store them back there, thinking that someday there might be some use for them. But really, they're just taking up space. For instance, the box of thoughts labeled '9th Grade Geometry'. I haven't opened that box in years, and I am seriously considering throwing it out. </div><div>Then we have those scary thoughts. Those thoughts that we only keep because we can't get rid of them. We store them in a corner, hoping that we never have to go back there for any reason. This is where we keep thoughts like 'Our Biggest Fears' and shoved way near the back 'Repressed Memories'. These are the thoughts expensive therapists are often so keen to know about.</div><div>Then we have those thoughts that are so nice that we're almost as scared of them as the 'scary thoughts'. Thoughts like 'What I Want to be When I Grow Up' and 'When I Fall in Love'. I think the main reason these thoughts are so frightening is that they're just dreams, and dreams, though beautiful, don't always come true.</div><div>Such were my musings as I carried awkward loads and cursed Merv and Spike for being so expensive. </div>Lizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01444522350509731089noreply@blogger.com0