Have you ever wondered why it is that some people second guess themselves constantly in order to please others around them? I wonder why it is that a person would want to please others rather than themselves, and why that person would be unhappy when failing to please others and succeeding at pleasing the self. I have always struggled to feel contentment when completing a task that makes me feel better, makes me happier. It's guilt, really. Unless the thing that makes me happy is also making another person happy, than I am in the dark. I've spent my entire life crawling on my hands and knees, sprawling out on the floor to feel my surroundings, searching for a light switch, or a candle. In my darkest days, the shadows would form figures, horror stories, and demons would follow me around. It was like I was blind in a room where the walls were covered in thorns. I had pricks in my hands, and to protect myself I cowered in the fetal position, hugging my knees in the center of the room. I slept like that for years.
It wasn't until a hand reached out to me to pick me up and show me light that I realized the time I had wasted, the life I had wasted in the dark. I left the dangerous and dark room, one step at a time, holding hands with my guide. Though I had seen the light, there was still a mountain to climb before I could touch it, and that mountain took years. As my steps produced wider gaps, my hand slipped from my guide, little by little. First a finger let go, then two, then three, until I was walking like a child holding the pointer finger of my confidant, sucking my thumb, and clutching my favorite stuffed animal as if letting go would be the end of me. My steps continued to grow, until I was leaping, and skipping up the mountain to the light. Even on the hottest days and the steepest climbs, I sought radiance and was given strength in my struggle. I had hope for the future. I was surrounded by rubble, and yearned to see the patch of grass at the mountain's peak. When I reached the light, I looked back at my journey, at my struggle for gratification and fulfillment. I prayed. And I lived on. I have not walked on a plateau since then, but the mountains have been smaller. Although at any moment, if I chose to slide down from where I stand and start over, I could. But now I keep the light closer, and I understand why it is that there are some people who have an incessant need to please others. I think that might be what grace is.
The life I saved was my own. I survived a struggle, a climb. Everyone has to. I think in order to save other peoples lives, saving my own would be the first mountain. I've seen the peak, and I know what's up there. I know it's beautiful. Now it's my turn to be the guide, and show people how to navigate their path, so they can witness the beauty too.
Thank you to my many guides along the way.
Listen to: Change Your Mind by Sister Hazel
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Friday, May 6, 2011
40. Go on a really big rollercoaster.
I HATE rollercoasters! I don't like heights, the speed makes my stomach hurt, and the anxiety of just being on the ride gets me every time. Even rides like Splash Mountain or Railroad whatever its called in Disney world, they make my stomach turn! They scare me! Ridiculous, I know.
I've been on maybe 4 (adult) rollercoasters in my life, mostly in Disney world, and when I was younger.
During my sophmore year of high school my family and I were headed down to visit my brother at the University of Tampa where he attended college at the time. My parents let me bring two of my closest friends, so right then and there it became a party. Half of what we did, I don't remember, but it was a weekend full of love, and skipping.
One of the days, my parents took us all to Busch Gardens. My friends loved rollercoasters so it was the perfect place to go, and (like a mom) I happily stood on the sidelines taking pictures and cheering them on. One rollercoaster they rode went at a 90 degree angle at some point. Just by watching my stomach turned, and I said "eh, no thanks."
My mom doesn't like rides like that either. She and I are very agreeable sometimes, so we would find something else to do, like get Henna tattoos, or take lots and lots of pictures.
It came time that we were leaving within the hour, and my friends have failed their mission of convincing me to ride a rollercoaster with them. ALAS! One of the final rides was a rollercoaster called Gwazi. An enormously high and fast wooden ride, with no loops, or upside-down things. Everyone was taking bets on whether I would do it or not, but the real deal breaker was when my friend, in a baby voice, and also in French, asked me to ride the rollercoaster with her. Ask me in a baby voice or a foreign language and you're pretty convincing. But ask me in a baby voice AND a foreign language at the same time?! You have me hooked.
Thats the great thing about foreign languages in the U.S., when you hear or speak them it feels like you're discussing a secret.
So of course when my friend says with a pouting face, "est-ce que vous roulez le rollercoaster." I don't even think she said it right but "le rollercoaster" in a French baby accent got me.
Upon twiddling my thumbs for ten minutes in line, my stomach was twisting the entire wait, but my friends were jumping up and down with excitement. The worst part of a rollercoaster, whether you like the rides or not, is the click click click click, and the sloooow motion of going up the peak from the station to where the REAL ride begins. That is the most anxious moment for me. Particularly when the cart is slowly rounding the top of the peak and half of me is starting to fall while the other half can still feel the least bit of contentment that the ride has not yet begun. After that fall, anything is possible! I mostly say "HOLY!" a lot without finishing my phrase, because even in a rip of panic I am aware that there may be children around. Also, another choice phrase is "WOAAAA" It's a combination of woah, and ah that I was inclined to repeat throughout the 2 minute ride.
The rollercoaster wasn't so bad, it was only the big drops that really had me hesitant to throw my hands high in the air. By the end I had let loose a little bit, but my stomach was in agony, and I was not convinced to do it another time.
I've always had motion sickness since I was a kid; boats, trains, planes, all kinds of movement. I guess I can use that as an excuse, it's just something that I can't control.
Rapper's Delight by Sugar Hill Gang. :P
I've been on maybe 4 (adult) rollercoasters in my life, mostly in Disney world, and when I was younger.
During my sophmore year of high school my family and I were headed down to visit my brother at the University of Tampa where he attended college at the time. My parents let me bring two of my closest friends, so right then and there it became a party. Half of what we did, I don't remember, but it was a weekend full of love, and skipping.
One of the days, my parents took us all to Busch Gardens. My friends loved rollercoasters so it was the perfect place to go, and (like a mom) I happily stood on the sidelines taking pictures and cheering them on. One rollercoaster they rode went at a 90 degree angle at some point. Just by watching my stomach turned, and I said "eh, no thanks."
My mom doesn't like rides like that either. She and I are very agreeable sometimes, so we would find something else to do, like get Henna tattoos, or take lots and lots of pictures.
It came time that we were leaving within the hour, and my friends have failed their mission of convincing me to ride a rollercoaster with them. ALAS! One of the final rides was a rollercoaster called Gwazi. An enormously high and fast wooden ride, with no loops, or upside-down things. Everyone was taking bets on whether I would do it or not, but the real deal breaker was when my friend, in a baby voice, and also in French, asked me to ride the rollercoaster with her. Ask me in a baby voice or a foreign language and you're pretty convincing. But ask me in a baby voice AND a foreign language at the same time?! You have me hooked.
Thats the great thing about foreign languages in the U.S., when you hear or speak them it feels like you're discussing a secret.
So of course when my friend says with a pouting face, "est-ce que vous roulez le rollercoaster." I don't even think she said it right but "le rollercoaster" in a French baby accent got me.
Upon twiddling my thumbs for ten minutes in line, my stomach was twisting the entire wait, but my friends were jumping up and down with excitement. The worst part of a rollercoaster, whether you like the rides or not, is the click click click click, and the sloooow motion of going up the peak from the station to where the REAL ride begins. That is the most anxious moment for me. Particularly when the cart is slowly rounding the top of the peak and half of me is starting to fall while the other half can still feel the least bit of contentment that the ride has not yet begun. After that fall, anything is possible! I mostly say "HOLY!" a lot without finishing my phrase, because even in a rip of panic I am aware that there may be children around. Also, another choice phrase is "WOAAAA" It's a combination of woah, and ah that I was inclined to repeat throughout the 2 minute ride.
The rollercoaster wasn't so bad, it was only the big drops that really had me hesitant to throw my hands high in the air. By the end I had let loose a little bit, but my stomach was in agony, and I was not convinced to do it another time.
I've always had motion sickness since I was a kid; boats, trains, planes, all kinds of movement. I guess I can use that as an excuse, it's just something that I can't control.
Rapper's Delight by Sugar Hill Gang. :P
Thursday, May 5, 2011
31. Collect CDs and DVDs
423 CDs
Techno, Country, Rock, Scary Rock, Classic Rock, Alternative, Emo, Punk, Hip-Hop, Reggae, Blues, Big Band, Pop, Opera, Jazz, R&B, Arabic, Greek, Italian, French, Indian, Japanese, Korean, Chinese, Irish, Soundtracks, Folk, Acoustic, Oldies, Rap, Electronic, Dance, Mixtapes, Romanian, Spanish, Reggaetone, Trance, and so on
I've got it all.
I've since sold 200 of them though, to afford to have fun. Unfortunately Newbury Comics would not buy back Jessica Simpson, Jennifer Lopez, or several other of my CDs of which are in great condition.
I have it all saved anyway.
310 DVDs
- and counting.
Yep.
Techno, Country, Rock, Scary Rock, Classic Rock, Alternative, Emo, Punk, Hip-Hop, Reggae, Blues, Big Band, Pop, Opera, Jazz, R&B, Arabic, Greek, Italian, French, Indian, Japanese, Korean, Chinese, Irish, Soundtracks, Folk, Acoustic, Oldies, Rap, Electronic, Dance, Mixtapes, Romanian, Spanish, Reggaetone, Trance, and so on
I've got it all.
I've since sold 200 of them though, to afford to have fun. Unfortunately Newbury Comics would not buy back Jessica Simpson, Jennifer Lopez, or several other of my CDs of which are in great condition.
I have it all saved anyway.
310 DVDs
- and counting.
Yep.
24. Pierce my ears at least 8 times.
It seems that at the start of a new and exciting time in my life, I almost always get my ears pierced. Some people get tattoos in different places they go, or collect trinkets. Well, my thing is getting my ears pierced. It's not on purpose either. I don't think: this is a significant moment in my life, I should get my ears pierced. I just do it and it happens to be at a significant moment.
The first time I got the regular piercings, I was in middle school, and everyone I knew already had their ears pierced for years even. Little things like that would make me feel left out, so it was very important that I looked and acted like a girl. So I went in to a store, batabing bataboom, done. Thank you Claire's.
The next piercing was in high school. I was at boarding school during this year and a really close and dear friend of mine had a piercing gun and had done it before. We were hardcore. I asked her to pierce my cartilage, and after 5 minutes of anxious anticipation, she pierced my ear and that was that. I went home and showed my parents a couple weeks later and they were shocked that I would do something so impulsive. Little did they know.
The next time, I was thinking I wanted holes two and three on both sides. Mom and I were shopping, saw Claire's, and decided HEY! Now or never. Boom, got that done. It was part of my graduation present; new beginnings. Thanks again Claire's.
Now at this point we were at 7 piercings. The goal is 8. Even numbers are nice, and 8 was once considered my lucky number as well.
In New York it's very easy to do anything illegally, or for cheap cheap. People think New York is expensive, and when it comes to food it is, but you can really find a reasonable or ridiculously cheap price for almost anything. The reason this time was significant for me was because I had begun to make amazingly wonderful and beautiful friends who are great to me, and I also started a new life here in New York. Moving is always a significant change and it will keep happening, that's the exciting part, there's always something that will be different! I don't understand people who get bored, they aren't living, aren't being spontaneous or getting off track from their routines. The only time routine is good is in prayer; otherwise it takes away from life, I think. Consistence is not the same though, that's a different story.
It just so happened that my friends were getting their bellies pierced out of impulse one night, something I don't think I would ever do, and I was feeling like it was time for me to do something spontaneous, potentially painful, and new. Tattoo's aren't my thing. At least not spontaneously. I feel like tattoos are something that I would want to put a lot of thought into, or I would want a friend or myself to draw it first.
It just so happened that my friend and I both were interested in getting another cartilage piercing, but only for CHEAP! That was the deal. So we walked along St. Mark's Street for about 5 seconds before we saw a sign for piercings. We entered into a doorway aligned with white cardboard walls. Around the narrow corner was a storage sized room where tattoos and piercings were being given. I asked the overweight tan man with tattoos all over his body, how much for a piercing. $10. Okay, better than the $35 that legitimate places were asking for. I agreed, and as if the man was being timed in a marathon, he sat my ass down, put a dot on my ear, and asked if I liked it. I glanced in the mirror for less than a brief moment and said yes BUT WAIT! He was moving way too fast for me (typical story), so I asked him to slow down. He grabs my ear, positions the gun, shoots, and as I get up he says "we don't slow down here, next."
I came to find out later that piercing cartilage with a gun can cause the cartilage to shatter and my ear would collapse and flop over. The only sanitation that went on was a quick spray of a water bottle and that was all. Not to mention, I've also learned that piercing with a gun like that is illegal. That explains the secret storage-room operation then. Although my ear was swollen for a week, the swelling has since gone down and it doesn't hurt as much anymore either. Niiiiiiice! :D
As always, great experience... but never again.
Maybe next time I'll get my nose pierced.
The first time I got the regular piercings, I was in middle school, and everyone I knew already had their ears pierced for years even. Little things like that would make me feel left out, so it was very important that I looked and acted like a girl. So I went in to a store, batabing bataboom, done. Thank you Claire's.
The next piercing was in high school. I was at boarding school during this year and a really close and dear friend of mine had a piercing gun and had done it before. We were hardcore. I asked her to pierce my cartilage, and after 5 minutes of anxious anticipation, she pierced my ear and that was that. I went home and showed my parents a couple weeks later and they were shocked that I would do something so impulsive. Little did they know.
The next time, I was thinking I wanted holes two and three on both sides. Mom and I were shopping, saw Claire's, and decided HEY! Now or never. Boom, got that done. It was part of my graduation present; new beginnings. Thanks again Claire's.
Now at this point we were at 7 piercings. The goal is 8. Even numbers are nice, and 8 was once considered my lucky number as well.
In New York it's very easy to do anything illegally, or for cheap cheap. People think New York is expensive, and when it comes to food it is, but you can really find a reasonable or ridiculously cheap price for almost anything. The reason this time was significant for me was because I had begun to make amazingly wonderful and beautiful friends who are great to me, and I also started a new life here in New York. Moving is always a significant change and it will keep happening, that's the exciting part, there's always something that will be different! I don't understand people who get bored, they aren't living, aren't being spontaneous or getting off track from their routines. The only time routine is good is in prayer; otherwise it takes away from life, I think. Consistence is not the same though, that's a different story.
It just so happened that my friends were getting their bellies pierced out of impulse one night, something I don't think I would ever do, and I was feeling like it was time for me to do something spontaneous, potentially painful, and new. Tattoo's aren't my thing. At least not spontaneously. I feel like tattoos are something that I would want to put a lot of thought into, or I would want a friend or myself to draw it first.
It just so happened that my friend and I both were interested in getting another cartilage piercing, but only for CHEAP! That was the deal. So we walked along St. Mark's Street for about 5 seconds before we saw a sign for piercings. We entered into a doorway aligned with white cardboard walls. Around the narrow corner was a storage sized room where tattoos and piercings were being given. I asked the overweight tan man with tattoos all over his body, how much for a piercing. $10. Okay, better than the $35 that legitimate places were asking for. I agreed, and as if the man was being timed in a marathon, he sat my ass down, put a dot on my ear, and asked if I liked it. I glanced in the mirror for less than a brief moment and said yes BUT WAIT! He was moving way too fast for me (typical story), so I asked him to slow down. He grabs my ear, positions the gun, shoots, and as I get up he says "we don't slow down here, next."
I came to find out later that piercing cartilage with a gun can cause the cartilage to shatter and my ear would collapse and flop over. The only sanitation that went on was a quick spray of a water bottle and that was all. Not to mention, I've also learned that piercing with a gun like that is illegal. That explains the secret storage-room operation then. Although my ear was swollen for a week, the swelling has since gone down and it doesn't hurt as much anymore either. Niiiiiiice! :D
As always, great experience... but never again.
Maybe next time I'll get my nose pierced.
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