What is a smile if it is not the ultimate expression of life?
Each and every day we are presented with a panoply of faces. Each face has a person behind it with their own personality, their own ideas and ideals, their own views and opinions. Each person also has their own story. There are a tremendous number of factors that have gone into who a person is when you finally meet and interact with them. Every interlocution you engage in will affect your day; it is the same for those with whom you have conversed.
Our personalities, our moods, our mannerisms are infectious. When we engage in a dialogue with someone, we naturally observe their emotions before, during, and after speaking. If someone looks upset, that will affect how we begin talking to them. If this person becomes upset while we are speaking with them, that will affect how or whether we continue. There are a great many possible implications that may or may not come from being upset after a conversation has ended….
I would venture to say, though, that most people do not try to make others upset and that upon finding an upset person, most people will do their best to rectify the situation… to make the other person smile. A smile is a symbol of good intentions. It is a symbol of happiness. It is a symbol of pleasure. It is a symbol of agreement, approval, understanding, encouragement, pride, love, lust, desire, thanks, sarcasm, playfulness, jocularity. It is a symbol of life. What is it we pursue most in life? Money? Success? Love? Understanding? Peace? What are all these things but extensions of happiness, and what is the ultimate symbol for life and happiness? A smile.
I frequently say "smiles and good cheer" to people I encounter in my day. I'm sure plenty of people think I'm annoying, but the funny thing is they usually listen. Even if they are only smiling because of the sometimes sarcastic nature of the phrase, they smile nonetheless. It is an amazing thing to change a mood. The power we have over each other is undeniably huge when you look at how easy it is to make a person go from content to ridiculously angry, or tearfully sad to hopeful and content. It isn't just a silly phrase I made up, though. It is a verbal cue that has brought about plenty of smiles and a healthy amount of good cheer.
In a world where so much importance is placed on the extreme emotions, where is the simple smile placed? It is far more common, but not for lack of value. In fact, the smile—and it's implications—is quite possibly more important than the majority of our other expressions—and concurrent emotions.
Smiles are the ultimate expression of life. They show that you care about what you are doing and the life you are living. What better way to make your own personal world a better place than to smile and make others' worlds better?
----
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Smiles and good cheer to all!
Monday, December 27, 2010
Saturday, December 25, 2010
It's Christmas?
For the past 19 years, I have been surrounded by people for the holidays. If I was at home, I had all my siblings and my parents and maybe a relative or two. Every year I would be in bed by eleven, pretending that Santa still exists (because the fat man doesn't deliver the goods if you don't believe he's real!) because I wanted to wake up the next morning and see a room full of shiny boxes and wonderful decorations. If I went to my cousin's house, we'd spend the morning driving packed into large box on wheels. When it came time to open presents, there were somewhere around 20 people in one room. Boxes were everywhere. A torrential paper storm ensued as everyone quickly shredded the beautiful wrapping paper for all of their lovely gifts. Smiles and good cheer permeated the air. The room was warm with love and joy as four generations of people shared such a wonderful time together.
Never did I imagine that would ever be different...
I'm older now. 20 to be exact... I'm by no means "aged" or "wise" or any of that, but I do have a collection of new responsibilities and complications in my life. I'm about to be an honors triple major in school. I take 20 credits a semester. I have three jobs. My family lives in Cuba. And I don't have a car. Bear in mind that a lot of that is my own decision and I'm not complaining in the slightest.
This is the first year I don't get to wake up at home with my family.... I don't get to walk into the living room and smell the live Christmas tree. I don't get to pour out my stuffed stocking onto the breakfast table, which is already covered in delectable goodies. And I don't get to see my siblings' faces as they open their presents. I miss them a lot. I got to see them a few days ago. My mom and siblings made a special trip up from Cuba just to see me for a couple days. They got to come to concert and we went to the mall and had a lot of fun shopping.
This year, I will wake up in my dorm room. I'll pack up all my stuff, clean my room, wash the dirty dishes, and wait for my aunt to pick me up and take me to my cousins' house. After that, I'm off to spend the rest of December with grandpa.
Again, it might sound like I'm complaining...or like I'm sad. I'm not. These are all results of decisions I've made. My church job has kept me on campus until Christmas and that couldn't be helped. The point of this post is just to reflect on how different my life is now and specifically how different this Christmas is... it's the first time I've ever been away from my family for Christmas....
Honestly, I didn't even realize it was Christmas until yesterday and even then it didn't feel like it. I couldn't really describe why, but it just didn't feel like that special holiday I remember from childhood. There's no Christmas tree or fancy decorations. The jolly music isn't playing and I've yet to see any Santas walking around.
I think this is a good time to say that we should all reflect on our lives and how different we are today from yesterday or last week or last month or year or decade. Things change so much as we grow older and more mature. Even if the traditions you personally have haven't changed, you as a person surely have. I know I have. And what better time of year is there to celebrate everything you have and have become?
Smiles and good cheer for everyone. :)
Merry Christmas! I love you all and I hope you have a marvelous holiday.
----
Those hours when happy hours were my estate,—
Entailed, as proper, for the next in line,
Yet mine the harvest, and the title mine—
Those acres, fertile, and the furrow straight,
From which the lark would rise—all of my late
Enchantments, still, in brilliant colours, shine,
But striped with black, the tulip, lawn and vine,
Like gardens looked at through an iron gate.
Yet not as one who never sojourned there
I view the lovely segments of a past
I lived with all my senses, well aware
That this was perfect, and it would not last:
I smell the flower, through vacuum-still the air;
I feel its texture, though the gate is fast.
--Edna St. Vincent Millay
Never did I imagine that would ever be different...
I'm older now. 20 to be exact... I'm by no means "aged" or "wise" or any of that, but I do have a collection of new responsibilities and complications in my life. I'm about to be an honors triple major in school. I take 20 credits a semester. I have three jobs. My family lives in Cuba. And I don't have a car. Bear in mind that a lot of that is my own decision and I'm not complaining in the slightest.
This is the first year I don't get to wake up at home with my family.... I don't get to walk into the living room and smell the live Christmas tree. I don't get to pour out my stuffed stocking onto the breakfast table, which is already covered in delectable goodies. And I don't get to see my siblings' faces as they open their presents. I miss them a lot. I got to see them a few days ago. My mom and siblings made a special trip up from Cuba just to see me for a couple days. They got to come to concert and we went to the mall and had a lot of fun shopping.
This year, I will wake up in my dorm room. I'll pack up all my stuff, clean my room, wash the dirty dishes, and wait for my aunt to pick me up and take me to my cousins' house. After that, I'm off to spend the rest of December with grandpa.
Again, it might sound like I'm complaining...or like I'm sad. I'm not. These are all results of decisions I've made. My church job has kept me on campus until Christmas and that couldn't be helped. The point of this post is just to reflect on how different my life is now and specifically how different this Christmas is... it's the first time I've ever been away from my family for Christmas....
Honestly, I didn't even realize it was Christmas until yesterday and even then it didn't feel like it. I couldn't really describe why, but it just didn't feel like that special holiday I remember from childhood. There's no Christmas tree or fancy decorations. The jolly music isn't playing and I've yet to see any Santas walking around.
I think this is a good time to say that we should all reflect on our lives and how different we are today from yesterday or last week or last month or year or decade. Things change so much as we grow older and more mature. Even if the traditions you personally have haven't changed, you as a person surely have. I know I have. And what better time of year is there to celebrate everything you have and have become?
Smiles and good cheer for everyone. :)
Merry Christmas! I love you all and I hope you have a marvelous holiday.
----
Those hours when happy hours were my estate,—
Entailed, as proper, for the next in line,
Yet mine the harvest, and the title mine—
Those acres, fertile, and the furrow straight,
From which the lark would rise—all of my late
Enchantments, still, in brilliant colours, shine,
But striped with black, the tulip, lawn and vine,
Like gardens looked at through an iron gate.
Yet not as one who never sojourned there
I view the lovely segments of a past
I lived with all my senses, well aware
That this was perfect, and it would not last:
I smell the flower, through vacuum-still the air;
I feel its texture, though the gate is fast.
--Edna St. Vincent Millay
Thursday, October 21, 2010
What I Don't Understand…
In the past month, there have been seven publicized suicides by gay (or perceived gay) teenagers around the country.
Billy Lucas (15)
Cody Barker (17)
Seth Walsh (13)
Tyler Clementi (18)
Asher Brown (13)
Raymond Chase (19)
Zach Harrington (19)
All seven of these kids were promising individuals. With the exception of Raymond*, these kids were subjected to cruel bullying and a harsh school environment. With little or no hope for the bullying to cease and real kindness to set in, each one of these kids took his own life.
I am not going to recount each of their stories here. I have included links to articles about their tragic deaths.
This post is meant to focus on something else, though. Seven people lost their lives. Seven families are mourning the loss, and will never be the same again. Seven circles of acquaintances and friends have lost whatever may have someday come from their relationships with these people.
Why.
What caused them to feel they had no other options? How much tormenting does it take for someone to feel that they are alone and helpless in the world? How much self-deprecation is produced by a hateful, unaccepting and intolerant environment?
These are all very reasonable questions in my opinion. These teens, three of whom were not even in high school yet, suffered needlessly at the hands of their fellows and could find no respite from the ever-present invective surrounding them in school, in society, in religious institutions, and in the media. They died because they saw no other options.
When things like this happen, I immediately wonder how the world could be so cruel. Because it's never just one cruel moment or one hateful being. It's always a majority of intolerant people whose opinions rake the souls of the innocent. And it's always the innocent who are left feeling alone and as if they are worthless, insignificant, solitary, abnormal, disgusting, or any number of adjectives.
Why do people do this?
There are so many reasons why people believe it's ok to berate people because of the way they are: their own insecurities, the discomfort felt around differences, a perceived religious right to dictate to others how they should or should not be, a misunderstanding between what is innate and what is adapted, a simple pleasure in making others feel low (shadenfreude, if you will), a false sense of superiority created by a skewed sense of majority, societal conditioning, etc.
What doesn't make sense, though is how any sane person could use any of the aforementioned reasons... any logically minded person could see that berating others for such ill-founded reasons is morally wrong by anyone's standards (besides, perhaps, the Westboro Baptist Church members). Therein lies the problem, though. People aren't thinking. And worse yet, many of the culprits of bullying are barely mature enough to comprehend the mental, physical, and moral consequences of their actions. The fault then lies with their environment. The area where they live, the school they attend, the news they watch, the church they attend—if they attend one—and of course, the family. The environment by which one is surrounded from birth to adulthood affects how one thinks, acts, feels, and understands an issue. The old cliché, it takes a village to raise a child, fits perfectly here. In the end, though, it is the parents and the teachers that mold the individual. One may like to think of the individual as predestined to a certain mindset or ideal, but that really is making the issue at hand far simpler than it is.
Take a child, any child will do. Put him in a situation where he is unwelcome. Where people all around him call him names like "faggot," and tell him he is going to hell where he belongs (because he likes boys?). Where those who love him for who he is are few and far between. Where those who would support and protect him can't and those who would deprecate do. Where those whose responsibility it is to provide safety and authority don't and those who bear ill will fire unrestrained.
What do you expect to come of this child‽
* * *
Joel Burns gave a beautifully heart-felt and honest speech at a city council meeting recently. In it he tells a bit of his own experience with bullying. He stops short of telling those present about his own attempt at suicide.
His speech is one of many contributions to the It Gets Better Project, where adults from around the world have been leaving their own heart-felt messages about how no matter how tough life seems, it gets better. You grow up, you leave the hate behind, and you move on to the greatest experiences life can offer you.
* * *
There is nothing more heart-wrenching to me than the death of an innocent. Nothing. As each of the stories about the teens entered my life, it felt like pieces of my heart were being shattered. I spent more than one night crying because there was nothing I could do. I felt helpless. I wished I could just go back in time and tell each of these boys that they weren't alone and that it gets better.
I try to hold the world as a whole in high esteem. I love life. I love people. I love the concept of living. But it becomes so much more difficult to keep loving a world that can allow something like this to happen. And it's not just these! Sure, these hit a bit harder to home because of the similarities I share with the victims, but it's the same with the endless religious and cultural warfare, sexism, racism, etc.
None of them should have died. And no more should be added to the list. Life gets so much better and there will always be someone who loves you. Always. You just have to wait it out. Push through. Be strong. To get to the special moments that fill your life with meaning, you first have to survive.
What I don't understand is why this type of thing is still up for discussion. People are people. We are all different. You don't need to love your neighbor. You don't even need to like your neighbor. What you need to do is respect your neighbor's right to exist and be happy in this world. That is where the real change will come from.
* * *
Broadway sings "It Gets Better" for the Trevor Project.
* Raymond was fortunate enough to have a wide circle of accepting friends in a friendly environment. The exact reasons for his suicide are unknown to me.
I am not going to recount each of their stories here. I have included links to articles about their tragic deaths.
This post is meant to focus on something else, though. Seven people lost their lives. Seven families are mourning the loss, and will never be the same again. Seven circles of acquaintances and friends have lost whatever may have someday come from their relationships with these people.
Why.
What caused them to feel they had no other options? How much tormenting does it take for someone to feel that they are alone and helpless in the world? How much self-deprecation is produced by a hateful, unaccepting and intolerant environment?
These are all very reasonable questions in my opinion. These teens, three of whom were not even in high school yet, suffered needlessly at the hands of their fellows and could find no respite from the ever-present invective surrounding them in school, in society, in religious institutions, and in the media. They died because they saw no other options.
When things like this happen, I immediately wonder how the world could be so cruel. Because it's never just one cruel moment or one hateful being. It's always a majority of intolerant people whose opinions rake the souls of the innocent. And it's always the innocent who are left feeling alone and as if they are worthless, insignificant, solitary, abnormal, disgusting, or any number of adjectives.
Why do people do this?
There are so many reasons why people believe it's ok to berate people because of the way they are: their own insecurities, the discomfort felt around differences, a perceived religious right to dictate to others how they should or should not be, a misunderstanding between what is innate and what is adapted, a simple pleasure in making others feel low (shadenfreude, if you will), a false sense of superiority created by a skewed sense of majority, societal conditioning, etc.
What doesn't make sense, though is how any sane person could use any of the aforementioned reasons... any logically minded person could see that berating others for such ill-founded reasons is morally wrong by anyone's standards (besides, perhaps, the Westboro Baptist Church members). Therein lies the problem, though. People aren't thinking. And worse yet, many of the culprits of bullying are barely mature enough to comprehend the mental, physical, and moral consequences of their actions. The fault then lies with their environment. The area where they live, the school they attend, the news they watch, the church they attend—if they attend one—and of course, the family. The environment by which one is surrounded from birth to adulthood affects how one thinks, acts, feels, and understands an issue. The old cliché, it takes a village to raise a child, fits perfectly here. In the end, though, it is the parents and the teachers that mold the individual. One may like to think of the individual as predestined to a certain mindset or ideal, but that really is making the issue at hand far simpler than it is.
Take a child, any child will do. Put him in a situation where he is unwelcome. Where people all around him call him names like "faggot," and tell him he is going to hell where he belongs (because he likes boys?). Where those who love him for who he is are few and far between. Where those who would support and protect him can't and those who would deprecate do. Where those whose responsibility it is to provide safety and authority don't and those who bear ill will fire unrestrained.
What do you expect to come of this child‽
* * *
Joel Burns gave a beautifully heart-felt and honest speech at a city council meeting recently. In it he tells a bit of his own experience with bullying. He stops short of telling those present about his own attempt at suicide.
His speech is one of many contributions to the It Gets Better Project, where adults from around the world have been leaving their own heart-felt messages about how no matter how tough life seems, it gets better. You grow up, you leave the hate behind, and you move on to the greatest experiences life can offer you.
* * *
There is nothing more heart-wrenching to me than the death of an innocent. Nothing. As each of the stories about the teens entered my life, it felt like pieces of my heart were being shattered. I spent more than one night crying because there was nothing I could do. I felt helpless. I wished I could just go back in time and tell each of these boys that they weren't alone and that it gets better.
I try to hold the world as a whole in high esteem. I love life. I love people. I love the concept of living. But it becomes so much more difficult to keep loving a world that can allow something like this to happen. And it's not just these! Sure, these hit a bit harder to home because of the similarities I share with the victims, but it's the same with the endless religious and cultural warfare, sexism, racism, etc.
None of them should have died. And no more should be added to the list. Life gets so much better and there will always be someone who loves you. Always. You just have to wait it out. Push through. Be strong. To get to the special moments that fill your life with meaning, you first have to survive.
What I don't understand is why this type of thing is still up for discussion. People are people. We are all different. You don't need to love your neighbor. You don't even need to like your neighbor. What you need to do is respect your neighbor's right to exist and be happy in this world. That is where the real change will come from.
* * *
Broadway sings "It Gets Better" for the Trevor Project.
* Raymond was fortunate enough to have a wide circle of accepting friends in a friendly environment. The exact reasons for his suicide are unknown to me.
Read on Your Phone
Friday, September 10, 2010
Perfection
I came to a realization today: my standards are really high. I hold everyone around me to a very high standard of excellence and ability. I push people to do the best at what they're doing with the mentality that if you aren't doing your absolute best to your fullest potential, you're wasting your time and mine. I strive for perfection for myself in whatever I do. I am very detail oriented when it comes to my own creations because it is the details that make something great into something perfect.
But, by doing this I force those around me to see me as something I'm not. I am NOT judgmental of others' abilities. I am not so high-headed that I can't settle for less than stellar. I do demand a higher than average level for things, but that doesn't mean I don't appreciate less...
This realization came after a few incidents of the past couple months. My older cousin (once removed) won't sing in front of me because she thinks I'll judge or criticize her. Honestly I won't... believe it or not, I am capable of separating and distinguishing between a trained singer and a church singer and I hold different standards for each.
Later in the summer, the same cousin almost wouldn't tell me what batter she used for the waffles I was eating. It was really out of pure curiosity and I would not have been upset or anything had she said Aunt Jamima or whatever. It turned out it was Bisquick, a perfectly legitimate and deliciously simple boxed flour product that makes wonderful pancakes and dinner rolls. I think she did these things because when I talk about the choirs at my school or the food I make, I get rather intense about how the singers are perfectly in tune and the ingredients I use must be wonderful and fresh. That doesn't mean that everything has to be perfect throughout my life... that would be crazy.
I'm at my grandfather's house writing this because a few minutes ago he asked me if I could eat a boxed chicken and mushroom lasagna for dinner tonight. I replied, "well yeah, that sounds tasty." It's really ok... I'm not trying to make people feel the need to overdo everything. I like to cook fresh, but that doesn't mean I won't eat a boxed meal...every once in a while.
For the record, I love Aunt Jamima. I think Uncle Ben's minute rice is delicious. I won't eat fast food on principal, but the burgers still call to me when I pass by. You don't have to be perfect for me. My standards for perfection are more for myself than for anyone else...
But, by doing this I force those around me to see me as something I'm not. I am NOT judgmental of others' abilities. I am not so high-headed that I can't settle for less than stellar. I do demand a higher than average level for things, but that doesn't mean I don't appreciate less...
This realization came after a few incidents of the past couple months. My older cousin (once removed) won't sing in front of me because she thinks I'll judge or criticize her. Honestly I won't... believe it or not, I am capable of separating and distinguishing between a trained singer and a church singer and I hold different standards for each.
Later in the summer, the same cousin almost wouldn't tell me what batter she used for the waffles I was eating. It was really out of pure curiosity and I would not have been upset or anything had she said Aunt Jamima or whatever. It turned out it was Bisquick, a perfectly legitimate and deliciously simple boxed flour product that makes wonderful pancakes and dinner rolls. I think she did these things because when I talk about the choirs at my school or the food I make, I get rather intense about how the singers are perfectly in tune and the ingredients I use must be wonderful and fresh. That doesn't mean that everything has to be perfect throughout my life... that would be crazy.
I'm at my grandfather's house writing this because a few minutes ago he asked me if I could eat a boxed chicken and mushroom lasagna for dinner tonight. I replied, "well yeah, that sounds tasty." It's really ok... I'm not trying to make people feel the need to overdo everything. I like to cook fresh, but that doesn't mean I won't eat a boxed meal...every once in a while.
For the record, I love Aunt Jamima. I think Uncle Ben's minute rice is delicious. I won't eat fast food on principal, but the burgers still call to me when I pass by. You don't have to be perfect for me. My standards for perfection are more for myself than for anyone else...
Thursday, September 2, 2010
Love
"They ask me how I know its love. I tell them if I knew how to describe it, it wouldn't be love."
--@TeensInLove on Twitter
So all of my posts recently have been on the topic of love. Obviously this is something that has been on my mind and which I wish to explore.
How do you know if you love someone? The above quote I almost glanced over. Instead, I went back and actually read it. It not only made sense, but it made me feel substantially better about my own situation. I could not answer the question "how do you know you love him?" because I can't answer it. It is impossible to describe my emotions or my feelings with the current collection of words with which English has provided me. Something like 750000 words just don't cut it.
I am hard-pressed to think of an occasion where it becomes impossible to describe something as what it is. Love is so intense and powerful and pure that it's inherently indescribable. How do you describe perfection?
Question for you as readers: can you describe love? can you describe what makes it love? Please comment.
Sunday, August 22, 2010
Baring My Soul
"To the world I can open my heart up in a second...but to someone close...it takes a while."
-- @TeensInLove on Twitter
"'How true, yes how true,' said the Sour Kangaroo."
-- Seussical, Jr.
Ok. Done with the quotes...
This is in part based on the post I wrote before this one, Somebody. It is also based on my life in general. In Somebody, I basically expressed my undying love for someone who doesn't know I love him. Even though our relationship is nothing beyond basic friendship at the moment, he makes me smile when I see him. He makes me feel special even though that's probably not at all what he's intending to do. It's so hard to talk to him because...well, to be cliché, he is constantly taking my breath away (I definitely stole that from either @TeensInLove or "cute texts from out of the blue").
For some reason, it wasn't difficult to write that out on my blog. It was, at times, troublesome coming up with how I wanted to say something or how I could make my ideas flow into something readable and understandable. But the act of writing it and clicking "Publish Post" was simple and was only mildly uncomfortable.
Why, then, is it so damned difficult to do this in person? Why can't I just walk up to him and say, "hey. I think you're cute. I really like you and I think we should do dinner some time."
My theory is that it is because he matters to me. His opinion matters to me. His presence in my life matters to me. While remaining "just friends" means I won't ever get more than that, it also means he'll always be there. If I told him I like him, what if he responds negatively? Could I deal with being just friends, knowing full well that he knows I like him? I think so, if I'm following my own advice. But then, what if he feels awkward around me afterward? I potentially could cause the end of our friendship and forever more be known as "that guy who liked me." But you, my dear readers (however few of you there are), I am not afraid of losing. I can tell you all of my secrets. I can tell you about every embarrassing thing I've ever done. At the end of the day, though, none of that matters between friends. When you're more than a friend, though... that's when it matters. That's when I become careful and nervous. I may constantly seem frazzled or lost because I'm thinking about how to be impressive for you...how to make you want me.
But this post isn't about him. Although it seems like it, it's just about how easy it is to bare my soul to the world, but harder than anything else to just talk to someone already close to my soul.
Sunday, August 15, 2010
Somebody
I think most people have a need or desire to be loved. Or perhaps it's more of a desire to be wanted. Perhaps both. I know for me it's a bit of both. I need it.
From birth I've moved around a lot. I've lived in Arizona; Pennsylvania; South Carolina; Coltsneck, New Jersey; Christiansburg, Virginia; Mississippi; Newport News, Virginia; and now I go back and forth between Flemington and Princeton, New Jersey (with frequent visits to New York City, New York and various places in Pennsylvania). Technically I live with my cousins in New Jersey, but my family lives in Guantanamo Bay, Cuba. Gotta love being a Navy brat.
This lifestyle has been a bit tough on my emotions. I didn't have many opportunities to become part of the community or to make many friends. I never got involved in sports (besides the short spurts of baseball, soccer, martial arts, cross country, or swimming). And after the third or fourth time saying goodbye to everyone I thought of as a friend, I sorta just gave up being really close to people. It hurts too much.
I could always rely on my mom and my sisters (and now my brother) to be there. I love my dad. He's always been a support (though occasionally a rough one—silly straight men feel the need to show off their buff muscles on their poor, innocent children who obviously could not defend themselves [love you, dad]), but early in my childhood he was away a lot. I think I missed out on something there.
Even so, I tended to shy away from physical contact and statements of affection. My friends were more acquaintances then actual friends. I didn't make real friends until late in high school. With only a couple exceptions, my life-long friends and life-long colleagues are the ones I've made in college. I can honestly say that I love my real friends with all my heart.
There is another kind of love, though, that I have found particularly difficult to pursue. In high school I had two "boyfriends." One was extremely short-lived because our schedules clashed horribly. Sad, really... he was a good guy. The other was very cute. A little young for me, but we got along really well and we had a lot of fun. Left him for college. I can't say I loved either of them because I didn't get to know either of them on that level.
In college, I have "liked" a few people to a mild degree. I have liked a few others to a stronger degree. But in the end, I have only fallen in love once. That is where I am now. I am in love with a guy I don't know how to get. I love a guy who probably has no idea I even think of him beyond friend. Will he read this? I hope so. Will he know it's about him? Who knows.... I just know I go to bed alone.
.....
I dream about him sometimes. Not the creepy sex dreams. No... I dream about being held forever. I dream that he loves me the way I love him. I dream that he wants me the way I want him.
I dream that one day I have the guts to say something. And I dream that I'm good enough to be loved in return.
I think I've fallen in love with you. Let's do dinner some time? movie?
"The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return." --eden ahbez
From birth I've moved around a lot. I've lived in Arizona; Pennsylvania; South Carolina; Coltsneck, New Jersey; Christiansburg, Virginia; Mississippi; Newport News, Virginia; and now I go back and forth between Flemington and Princeton, New Jersey (with frequent visits to New York City, New York and various places in Pennsylvania). Technically I live with my cousins in New Jersey, but my family lives in Guantanamo Bay, Cuba. Gotta love being a Navy brat.
This lifestyle has been a bit tough on my emotions. I didn't have many opportunities to become part of the community or to make many friends. I never got involved in sports (besides the short spurts of baseball, soccer, martial arts, cross country, or swimming). And after the third or fourth time saying goodbye to everyone I thought of as a friend, I sorta just gave up being really close to people. It hurts too much.
I could always rely on my mom and my sisters (and now my brother) to be there. I love my dad. He's always been a support (though occasionally a rough one—silly straight men feel the need to show off their buff muscles on their poor, innocent children who obviously could not defend themselves [love you, dad]), but early in my childhood he was away a lot. I think I missed out on something there.
Even so, I tended to shy away from physical contact and statements of affection. My friends were more acquaintances then actual friends. I didn't make real friends until late in high school. With only a couple exceptions, my life-long friends and life-long colleagues are the ones I've made in college. I can honestly say that I love my real friends with all my heart.
There is another kind of love, though, that I have found particularly difficult to pursue. In high school I had two "boyfriends." One was extremely short-lived because our schedules clashed horribly. Sad, really... he was a good guy. The other was very cute. A little young for me, but we got along really well and we had a lot of fun. Left him for college. I can't say I loved either of them because I didn't get to know either of them on that level.
In college, I have "liked" a few people to a mild degree. I have liked a few others to a stronger degree. But in the end, I have only fallen in love once. That is where I am now. I am in love with a guy I don't know how to get. I love a guy who probably has no idea I even think of him beyond friend. Will he read this? I hope so. Will he know it's about him? Who knows.... I just know I go to bed alone.
.....
I dream about him sometimes. Not the creepy sex dreams. No... I dream about being held forever. I dream that he loves me the way I love him. I dream that he wants me the way I want him.
I dream that one day I have the guts to say something. And I dream that I'm good enough to be loved in return.
I think I've fallen in love with you. Let's do dinner some time? movie?
"The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return." --eden ahbez
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
A Sad Story Indeed: Reflecting on the Education System
Recently I was driving around with a friend. We stopped somewhere, rolled up the windows--with the old-style manual windows--and turned off the car. In that order. My friend says to me with a laugh, "I felt like I had to roll the window up before you turned off the car or it just wouldn't go." It was at this time that I realized, "crap. I'm doing that, too." For the majority of my life, I have been in vehicles with automatic windows, which must be rolled up while the car is on. Despite the fact that I've been driving this old-school car for a couple months now, I still roll up my windows before turning it off.
Why do I do this? Because I have been trained by my former vehicles to leave the car on until all of the windows are fully closed. It is very difficult to break the habit that this training has instilled in me.
What the heck does this have to do with the education system? This may be a teensy weensy bit of a stretch, but these two things are fundamentally similar in principal. In the same way that I learned to leave the car on because of the negative results (negative stimuli, punishment) I received when I forgot, many students learn math and science and history. The Skinner philosophy of teaching relies on a punishment/rewards system, where students who do well are rewarded and students who do not are punished.
While this ideal is dying, in favor of more student-centered ideals and a less demeaning way of looking at a students psyche, many teachers still think in this way. Many, though, don't know that they're doing it. The majority of teachers will naturally teach in the way in which they themselves learn. Or in this case, learned. So if a teacher was taught using the rewards/punishment method, he or she will likely think that's the way everyone learns or should learn.
I am currently attending Westminster Choir College (WCC) for Music Education. The teaching ideal taught at WCC is critical pedagogy. Critical pedagogy brings students to the forefront of learning, using their world and what they know as teaching devices. It is no longer all about the teacher and the pupil—the dictator and the prole. Instead, it is about everyone learning and everyone teaching. Critical thinking and dialogue are tenets of critical pedagogy. This ideal is my goal in all of my studies and in any classroom in which I teach.
Why am I talking this? Because it's important to me. The idea that students are being forced into classrooms where they are spoon fed information they don't want or need only to reiterate said information on biased, non-representative exams later is preposterous and idiotic. I love life and I love learning. Trying to incite the same passion for exploration and understanding in others is my life. My experience with the car windows has merely reminded me that conditioning is everywhere, not just in our classrooms. We must be wary of allowing ourselves to bend to the whims of the world. Analyze everything.
Why do I do this? Because I have been trained by my former vehicles to leave the car on until all of the windows are fully closed. It is very difficult to break the habit that this training has instilled in me.
What the heck does this have to do with the education system? This may be a teensy weensy bit of a stretch, but these two things are fundamentally similar in principal. In the same way that I learned to leave the car on because of the negative results (negative stimuli, punishment) I received when I forgot, many students learn math and science and history. The Skinner philosophy of teaching relies on a punishment/rewards system, where students who do well are rewarded and students who do not are punished.
While this ideal is dying, in favor of more student-centered ideals and a less demeaning way of looking at a students psyche, many teachers still think in this way. Many, though, don't know that they're doing it. The majority of teachers will naturally teach in the way in which they themselves learn. Or in this case, learned. So if a teacher was taught using the rewards/punishment method, he or she will likely think that's the way everyone learns or should learn.
I am currently attending Westminster Choir College (WCC) for Music Education. The teaching ideal taught at WCC is critical pedagogy. Critical pedagogy brings students to the forefront of learning, using their world and what they know as teaching devices. It is no longer all about the teacher and the pupil—the dictator and the prole. Instead, it is about everyone learning and everyone teaching. Critical thinking and dialogue are tenets of critical pedagogy. This ideal is my goal in all of my studies and in any classroom in which I teach.
Why am I talking this? Because it's important to me. The idea that students are being forced into classrooms where they are spoon fed information they don't want or need only to reiterate said information on biased, non-representative exams later is preposterous and idiotic. I love life and I love learning. Trying to incite the same passion for exploration and understanding in others is my life. My experience with the car windows has merely reminded me that conditioning is everywhere, not just in our classrooms. We must be wary of allowing ourselves to bend to the whims of the world. Analyze everything.
Monday, June 21, 2010
Such a Sap...
Prior to college I never cried. Never. I guess I had detached myself emotionally from the world so that I wouldn't get hurt. It was tough growing up. I moved every two years, about, and so had to make friends and leave them before ever really growing close to them. So why bother feeling anything at all? (This wasn't intentional, by the way. It kinda just happened.)
Anyway, once I hit senior year in high school, I started emotionally investing myself in the world again because I had developed real friendships and I had begun to understand myself much more than before.
As soon as college hit, I started crying about everything! I don't really understand why, but if a book or movie is exceptionally inspirational, or someone says or does something particularly hurtful, I'll cry (not in front of them, of course). Recently, I went to see Toy Story 3. Having grown up watching Toy Storys 1 and 2, Toy Story 3 hit me hard. Pixar planned this movie well. The generation who grew up with Andy and Woody and Buzz is now sitting in theaters watching Andy go to college. Just like us. At the end of the movie, Andy makes the tough decision to part with all of his childhood playthings, passing them on to a little girl nearby. Watching this step into the grown-up life made me bawl. Hardcore. Tears were streaming from everyone in my generation in the theater.
Less than two days later, I read a moderately inspirational article on how to treat others. The third one, "Remember Those Who Serve," and the final one, "Giving When it Counts," almost made me cry. I had to force myself to stop to protect my pride.
What this has taught me is that children make me cry. Both of the aforementioned lessons on how to treat others involved children who did things purely and genuinely for no other reason than the kindness of their hearts.
This isn't to say I only cry for children (I cried during Prayers for Bobby, Brokeback Mountain, and Miracle. I also cried while reading Where the Red Fern Grows). It's just... I connect especially well to children.
What do you think? What makes you cry?
Anyway, once I hit senior year in high school, I started emotionally investing myself in the world again because I had developed real friendships and I had begun to understand myself much more than before.
As soon as college hit, I started crying about everything! I don't really understand why, but if a book or movie is exceptionally inspirational, or someone says or does something particularly hurtful, I'll cry (not in front of them, of course). Recently, I went to see Toy Story 3. Having grown up watching Toy Storys 1 and 2, Toy Story 3 hit me hard. Pixar planned this movie well. The generation who grew up with Andy and Woody and Buzz is now sitting in theaters watching Andy go to college. Just like us. At the end of the movie, Andy makes the tough decision to part with all of his childhood playthings, passing them on to a little girl nearby. Watching this step into the grown-up life made me bawl. Hardcore. Tears were streaming from everyone in my generation in the theater.
Less than two days later, I read a moderately inspirational article on how to treat others. The third one, "Remember Those Who Serve," and the final one, "Giving When it Counts," almost made me cry. I had to force myself to stop to protect my pride.
What this has taught me is that children make me cry. Both of the aforementioned lessons on how to treat others involved children who did things purely and genuinely for no other reason than the kindness of their hearts.
This isn't to say I only cry for children (I cried during Prayers for Bobby, Brokeback Mountain, and Miracle. I also cried while reading Where the Red Fern Grows). It's just... I connect especially well to children.
What do you think? What makes you cry?
Sunday, June 20, 2010
Special
Children are the most amazing creatures on the planet in my opinion. From birth they are innocent and pure. Until they become tainted by reality, they bear the most inquisitive eyes and adorable demeanor. It is an incredible thing to watch a child grow from baby to toddler to child to adolescent and beyond.
They are special in every way possible.
I know that if ever I am fortunate enough to be a dad I will spoil my child to no end because there is no one I could ever love more.
I do have a point to make, no worries. My recent post entitled ""Your Baby Can Read"" criticized the use of any product that takes time away from your child, who deserves nothing less than your full attention every hour of the day (though obviously this isn't always possible). I now must criticize America in general.
While this doesn't apply to every single parent in the country, it does apply to a great many.
How many of you played a sport when you were younger? Those in generations before mine remember a time when you got a trophy and a pizza party if you won and you went home if you lost. Those in my generation will recall that trophies were handed out to every child on every time regardless of how well the child did or how well the team did. Why is this? Why do children who failed at their jobs get trophies and congratulations and parties and whatnot? I was on a soccer team for one season. The team was awful as a whole. I am not sports-minded at all, so I certainly didn't contribute. We lost every game but one with zero points to our name. The one we didn't lose we tied 0-0. At the end of the season I was rather disappointed in myself and my team, but being a realist I said c'est la vie and told myself I'd work harder next time. Despite our many consecutive losses, we all got engraved trophies to take home. Even then I asked why we were getting trophies.
It doesn't make sense to reward failure. I'm not saying to give children a hard time if they don't do well with something, but don't baby them either! They deserve the respect of knowing what's going on in reality. As much as I love the idea of child-innocence and the preservation of youth, I hate the fact that parents across the country are setting their children up to fail in the future. By giving them a prize for losing and assuring them that everyone is amazing in their own way, you demean them and create an unfortunate mentality that it's ok to fail because you'll get a prize anyway.
Yes, it is okay to fail. But that should motivate you to do better the next time, not provide you with the same rewards as succeeding. Please, shower your children with all the love and affection they desire. Give them your heart and soul. Make them feel how much you care and how special they really are to you. But don't create in them an everyone's-a-winner mentality because that will just lead to hardship later on in life.
They are special in every way possible.
I know that if ever I am fortunate enough to be a dad I will spoil my child to no end because there is no one I could ever love more.
I do have a point to make, no worries. My recent post entitled ""Your Baby Can Read"" criticized the use of any product that takes time away from your child, who deserves nothing less than your full attention every hour of the day (though obviously this isn't always possible). I now must criticize America in general.
While this doesn't apply to every single parent in the country, it does apply to a great many.
How many of you played a sport when you were younger? Those in generations before mine remember a time when you got a trophy and a pizza party if you won and you went home if you lost. Those in my generation will recall that trophies were handed out to every child on every time regardless of how well the child did or how well the team did. Why is this? Why do children who failed at their jobs get trophies and congratulations and parties and whatnot? I was on a soccer team for one season. The team was awful as a whole. I am not sports-minded at all, so I certainly didn't contribute. We lost every game but one with zero points to our name. The one we didn't lose we tied 0-0. At the end of the season I was rather disappointed in myself and my team, but being a realist I said c'est la vie and told myself I'd work harder next time. Despite our many consecutive losses, we all got engraved trophies to take home. Even then I asked why we were getting trophies.
It doesn't make sense to reward failure. I'm not saying to give children a hard time if they don't do well with something, but don't baby them either! They deserve the respect of knowing what's going on in reality. As much as I love the idea of child-innocence and the preservation of youth, I hate the fact that parents across the country are setting their children up to fail in the future. By giving them a prize for losing and assuring them that everyone is amazing in their own way, you demean them and create an unfortunate mentality that it's ok to fail because you'll get a prize anyway.
Yes, it is okay to fail. But that should motivate you to do better the next time, not provide you with the same rewards as succeeding. Please, shower your children with all the love and affection they desire. Give them your heart and soul. Make them feel how much you care and how special they really are to you. But don't create in them an everyone's-a-winner mentality because that will just lead to hardship later on in life.
Saturday, June 19, 2010
"Your Baby Can Read"
On a recent drive to work, I was listening to a pop station on the radio. During a commercial brake, an ad for a product called "Your Baby Can Read" was played. At first, the product seemed useful—teaching your child to read young so they develop the skill quickly and early so they progress through school in the same manner. As the commercial progressed though I became steadily more appalled and ended up being rather sad.
What hit me the most in this ad was the testimonial where a mother was asked "did you have to do anything?" and she responded, "no! I didn't have to do a thing!" As if parents needed another thing to separate them from their children. My mind doesn't grasp the concept of neglect. Perhaps "neglect" is to strong a word... but in a way it isn't. I don't understand parents who don't give their children attention. I don't understand how you can bring a child into the world and NOT give it every waking moment of your attention. Though I don't readily admit to liking kids (because I don't really want to end up babysitting...), every time I see a child my heart flutters and I am happy. Watching a child learn is, to me, one of the most amazing things you can ever see. As it relates to learning to read, watching a machine teach a child to read seems like a travesty.
On a more personal note, I realize and have accepted the fact that I will probably never have natural blood-related children. It's even a stretch to hope to ever have children at all. This is saddening all in its own. But then, the fact that so many parents have children and don't treat them the way they should or give them the attention they deserve just makes it worse.
Another commercial I heard a few years ago advertised a book of 60 second bedtime stories. What? What kind of parent can only spare 60 seconds of their precious night time to read to their child? Why read at all?
I just felt I should share my feelings on this type of product. In my opinion, anything that uses less time with your child as a way to sell itself is sick and wrong. As I said earlier: I can't imagine ever having a child and not giving it every ounce of my love and attention. If you want to teach your child to read, read to them. Anything and everything. Just read.
What hit me the most in this ad was the testimonial where a mother was asked "did you have to do anything?" and she responded, "no! I didn't have to do a thing!" As if parents needed another thing to separate them from their children. My mind doesn't grasp the concept of neglect. Perhaps "neglect" is to strong a word... but in a way it isn't. I don't understand parents who don't give their children attention. I don't understand how you can bring a child into the world and NOT give it every waking moment of your attention. Though I don't readily admit to liking kids (because I don't really want to end up babysitting...), every time I see a child my heart flutters and I am happy. Watching a child learn is, to me, one of the most amazing things you can ever see. As it relates to learning to read, watching a machine teach a child to read seems like a travesty.
On a more personal note, I realize and have accepted the fact that I will probably never have natural blood-related children. It's even a stretch to hope to ever have children at all. This is saddening all in its own. But then, the fact that so many parents have children and don't treat them the way they should or give them the attention they deserve just makes it worse.
Another commercial I heard a few years ago advertised a book of 60 second bedtime stories. What? What kind of parent can only spare 60 seconds of their precious night time to read to their child? Why read at all?
I just felt I should share my feelings on this type of product. In my opinion, anything that uses less time with your child as a way to sell itself is sick and wrong. As I said earlier: I can't imagine ever having a child and not giving it every ounce of my love and attention. If you want to teach your child to read, read to them. Anything and everything. Just read.
Friday, May 21, 2010
I don't wanna talk about it...
There have been many situations where I was asked, "what's wrong?" or "are you ok?" Yes. I'm fine. If I weren't fine, you'd know already. I am allowed to be upset, angry, sad, jealous, or just plain "blah" without discussing it with everyone. Rarely do I get asked about why I'm happy or why I look so excited. What is the difference here? If you want to care about how I'm feeling, care all the time, not just when I'm in a mood.
Recently, yes, I've gone through a couple mood swings: happy and excited one day, mopey the next. It's really nothing to worry about. I have plenty of what I feel are good reasons to feel the way I do and I don't always have a desire to share these with the world—and by world I mean the one or two people who have seen me and asked. I'm not being emo. I'm being normal.
And if I say it's nothing and that I don't want to talk about it, it'd be nice if that were respected. Thanks.
As my favorite roomy ever used to say: "I'm over it."
Recently, yes, I've gone through a couple mood swings: happy and excited one day, mopey the next. It's really nothing to worry about. I have plenty of what I feel are good reasons to feel the way I do and I don't always have a desire to share these with the world—and by world I mean the one or two people who have seen me and asked. I'm not being emo. I'm being normal.
And if I say it's nothing and that I don't want to talk about it, it'd be nice if that were respected. Thanks.
As my favorite roomy ever used to say: "I'm over it."
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Grudge
No matter how hard I try, I find it utterly impossible to hold a grudge. I don't think, in the entirety of my life, that I have been able to be angry at someone for more than a day, two at the most. It comes down to whether or not I want to sleep at night. If there is anything wrong—I'm sad about something, someone upset me, I got angry at someone/something/myself, or if I'm just frustrated—I cannot sleep. It's terribly inconvenient, because it seems to happen a lot in college. Once sleep hits me, I'm dead until my alarm goes off. Getting to sleep seems to be the issue….
In relation to grudges, I either have to give up and just forgive and forget or I will spend the entire night rolling around angry at the world. Everything will be a distraction from what is generally a deep and dreamless slumber.
Sometimes, though, it really isn't fair that I can't just stay angry at someone for a while. There is a certain satisfaction gleaned from being mad at someone who knows and acknowledges that you are mad at them. How short-lived is this satisfaction if it only lasts until my head hits the pillow…. What can I do, though? I consistently wake up happy for the day, and ready for good things to transpire. I know that I have amazing friends who have never drifted from me or left my thoughts for an instant—some older, some made fewer than six months ago. It is probably this knowledge and the knowledge that at the end of the day, it will all go away and I will rest and awake joyous that keeps me from being an angry person. This is not to say that the majority of my emotions are positive, but that generally I start my day quite content. It is only the occurrences of the day that alter this state of emotions. Some people like drama where drama is clearly unneeded. It is their prerogative to disturb the balance of goodness and happiness. It must be a terribly unfortunate affliction to be one of these people….
At the end of the day, though, how can I be angry? How could I in good conscience (and for my own peace of mind) allow myself to hold any kind of angst against someone? I can't. And even if at the time I really want to just be mad, I won't. Forgive and forget… a motto to live by. It certainly allows me to smile more. People should try it more often.
In relation to grudges, I either have to give up and just forgive and forget or I will spend the entire night rolling around angry at the world. Everything will be a distraction from what is generally a deep and dreamless slumber.
Sometimes, though, it really isn't fair that I can't just stay angry at someone for a while. There is a certain satisfaction gleaned from being mad at someone who knows and acknowledges that you are mad at them. How short-lived is this satisfaction if it only lasts until my head hits the pillow…. What can I do, though? I consistently wake up happy for the day, and ready for good things to transpire. I know that I have amazing friends who have never drifted from me or left my thoughts for an instant—some older, some made fewer than six months ago. It is probably this knowledge and the knowledge that at the end of the day, it will all go away and I will rest and awake joyous that keeps me from being an angry person. This is not to say that the majority of my emotions are positive, but that generally I start my day quite content. It is only the occurrences of the day that alter this state of emotions. Some people like drama where drama is clearly unneeded. It is their prerogative to disturb the balance of goodness and happiness. It must be a terribly unfortunate affliction to be one of these people….
At the end of the day, though, how can I be angry? How could I in good conscience (and for my own peace of mind) allow myself to hold any kind of angst against someone? I can't. And even if at the time I really want to just be mad, I won't. Forgive and forget… a motto to live by. It certainly allows me to smile more. People should try it more often.
Thursday, February 11, 2010
The Little Things
I recently had the pleasure of watching a great video on youtube called Katrina Kenison - The Gift of an Ordinary Day. It's a woman speaking from her book by the same name. It is incredibly heartwarming and actually brought a tear to my eye. The book is about how as one's children grow up and move out, one begins to realize that it wasn't the photographed, posed, picture-framed memories that made all of those years special. It was the little things, the memories that "no one thought to photograph" that made the time amazing.
This made me think about my childhood and what I considered special and what I knew I would remember forever. It wasn't the vacations or the expensive Christmases or the extravagantly planned birthdays, but the times when we were just playing with each other or hanging out together. There was nothing special about these times, but they are truly what made my life as a kid.
This is a rather short post, as it's really only a reminder to myself and whoever reads this to cherish those moments that aren't "special." Embrace the times when you are with the people you care about, whether or not you are "doing something." Love the present and don't worry so much about what happened in the past, or where you fear the future might be going.
This made me think about my childhood and what I considered special and what I knew I would remember forever. It wasn't the vacations or the expensive Christmases or the extravagantly planned birthdays, but the times when we were just playing with each other or hanging out together. There was nothing special about these times, but they are truly what made my life as a kid.
This is a rather short post, as it's really only a reminder to myself and whoever reads this to cherish those moments that aren't "special." Embrace the times when you are with the people you care about, whether or not you are "doing something." Love the present and don't worry so much about what happened in the past, or where you fear the future might be going.
Monday, February 8, 2010
Perception of Perfection
I believe there is an innate desire in most people to achieve. While not everyone has the drive to better themselves, the vast majority of the people I have come across in my life (not that I have many years to boast) seem to desire to be better at something. They strive for the best grades, they practice endlessly to be the best at singing or playing the piano or playing the violin, they study constantly to insure they master the material, they inquire and research so they can have a broad knowledge base from which to pull. One can almost say it is a competition between the person and his or her peers, or, even better, between a person and his or her self.
Everyone who falls into the self-improvement category has to have a goal they intend to reach. Whether that is to be better than they are currently, or whether it is to be better than everyone around them is really a matter of personality. It is my firm belief that the broad categories of "type A" and "type B" personalities cannot possibly cover all of the mindsets of all of the people. At the same time, one can very loosely cover most people with these labels.
I, personally, fall into the "type A" category. Some days I feel as if this is an unfortunate affliction that prevents me from enjoying my life quite as much as I should. At the same time, I see it is a great thing that keeps me motivated to be successful in school and in life.
I have a constant need to feel like I'm doing something. I am somewhat of a perfectionist, so any work I do, I do with as much precision and accuracy as possible. I have a strong desire to learn about pretty much anything. I love all kinds of music and all kinds of instruments and all kinds of people because they are all interesting in their own respects.
On the other side of the "type A" spectrum, I have very low confidence in myself. And when I fail at something, I fail hard (particularly if I failed because of stupid mistakes rather than an actual lack of knowledge). A lack of knowledge I can deal with. I can learn more. I can practice more. I can study more. I can pay more attention. Stupid, careless errors, on the other hand are a product of my need for speed, pardon the expression. Since the beginning of school, I've had to change my entire mindset on practicing. "SLOW IT DOWN," I keep telling myself. And to my constant disbelief, I find that things come out so much better that way. Continuing on the previous train of thought, my low confidence puts me in a very tough position. I don't pursue many opportunities because I don't believe I could possibly be good enough to make it. It took every friend I had to convince me to try out for my first musical my Junior year in high school—my first legitimate solo performance. Fortunately, I've gained a bit more confidence in my abilities as a performer, so trying out for solos and choirs and other things is much easier. Unfortunately, this doesn't correlate to confidence in other areas. I will maintain a crush on someone for months and never do anything about it unless someone else forces me to (besides this obvious allusion to said crush). I will know an answer to a question in class and not speak up for fear of being wrong.
It's crippling in practice, and I do not recommend it.
Recently, my confidence was struck by a less-than-satisfactory grade on a Theory quiz. I don't do bad grades. That's a no-no. And yet, there it was. Besides the fact that I despise the teacher's teaching-style (TANGENTS AND BANKING), a bad grade means to me that I am not good enough. That I am less than I should be. This point-of-view SUCKS. I know it's not true, and yet I can't help feeling that way about the whole situation. Fortunately, my glorious friends, whose mere presence provides me with a comfort and joy indescribable in a blog post, are always there for me.
Whew, what a tangent! There is a point to this rather lengthy post, I promise.
The meaning of the title:
Everyone has a perception of perfection, so to speak. What I mean is, everyone looks at the world differently, and those who strive for "perfection" all view it [perfection] differently. My view of perfection is to be my own best. Unfortunately, I tend to base my best off of my peers' best, rather than comparing it to where I have come from. I'm working on it, though.
As we grow older, we will come across many, many others who will be greater than we are in many aspects. At Westminster, in particular, there is so much talent in so many people. In so many ways, I am honored to have this experience. At the same time, this raises my personal bar. I knew leaving high school that I was no longer going to be "the best." I'm not the best vocalist, I'm not the best pianist, I'm not the smartest or most driven. But I'm certainly going to try to be.
Two days ago, this was going to be a long, pathetic rant about how I suck at life and I fail at everything I try to do because I don't have the confidence to do it well. Now, gladly, this is a post about how despite my own imperfections (and my occasionally unfortunate affliction of a personality) I'm going to continue to strive to be better at everything I do. I'm also going to attempt to be more confident with everything I do. Currently, this means more assertively pursuing what I want—or more specifically, who I want. :-)
I think this is a long enough post, and I hope that anyone who actually took the time to read it got something out of it. I try to be clear in my thoughts with these things, but it's not an essay or anything, so I'm not going to go back and make sure all of my points were covered or that my logic isn't flawed. Lol.
Everyone who falls into the self-improvement category has to have a goal they intend to reach. Whether that is to be better than they are currently, or whether it is to be better than everyone around them is really a matter of personality. It is my firm belief that the broad categories of "type A" and "type B" personalities cannot possibly cover all of the mindsets of all of the people. At the same time, one can very loosely cover most people with these labels.
I, personally, fall into the "type A" category. Some days I feel as if this is an unfortunate affliction that prevents me from enjoying my life quite as much as I should. At the same time, I see it is a great thing that keeps me motivated to be successful in school and in life.
I have a constant need to feel like I'm doing something. I am somewhat of a perfectionist, so any work I do, I do with as much precision and accuracy as possible. I have a strong desire to learn about pretty much anything. I love all kinds of music and all kinds of instruments and all kinds of people because they are all interesting in their own respects.
On the other side of the "type A" spectrum, I have very low confidence in myself. And when I fail at something, I fail hard (particularly if I failed because of stupid mistakes rather than an actual lack of knowledge). A lack of knowledge I can deal with. I can learn more. I can practice more. I can study more. I can pay more attention. Stupid, careless errors, on the other hand are a product of my need for speed, pardon the expression. Since the beginning of school, I've had to change my entire mindset on practicing. "SLOW IT DOWN," I keep telling myself. And to my constant disbelief, I find that things come out so much better that way. Continuing on the previous train of thought, my low confidence puts me in a very tough position. I don't pursue many opportunities because I don't believe I could possibly be good enough to make it. It took every friend I had to convince me to try out for my first musical my Junior year in high school—my first legitimate solo performance. Fortunately, I've gained a bit more confidence in my abilities as a performer, so trying out for solos and choirs and other things is much easier. Unfortunately, this doesn't correlate to confidence in other areas. I will maintain a crush on someone for months and never do anything about it unless someone else forces me to (besides this obvious allusion to said crush). I will know an answer to a question in class and not speak up for fear of being wrong.
It's crippling in practice, and I do not recommend it.
Recently, my confidence was struck by a less-than-satisfactory grade on a Theory quiz. I don't do bad grades. That's a no-no. And yet, there it was. Besides the fact that I despise the teacher's teaching-style (TANGENTS AND BANKING), a bad grade means to me that I am not good enough. That I am less than I should be. This point-of-view SUCKS. I know it's not true, and yet I can't help feeling that way about the whole situation. Fortunately, my glorious friends, whose mere presence provides me with a comfort and joy indescribable in a blog post, are always there for me.
Whew, what a tangent! There is a point to this rather lengthy post, I promise.
The meaning of the title:
Everyone has a perception of perfection, so to speak. What I mean is, everyone looks at the world differently, and those who strive for "perfection" all view it [perfection] differently. My view of perfection is to be my own best. Unfortunately, I tend to base my best off of my peers' best, rather than comparing it to where I have come from. I'm working on it, though.
As we grow older, we will come across many, many others who will be greater than we are in many aspects. At Westminster, in particular, there is so much talent in so many people. In so many ways, I am honored to have this experience. At the same time, this raises my personal bar. I knew leaving high school that I was no longer going to be "the best." I'm not the best vocalist, I'm not the best pianist, I'm not the smartest or most driven. But I'm certainly going to try to be.
Two days ago, this was going to be a long, pathetic rant about how I suck at life and I fail at everything I try to do because I don't have the confidence to do it well. Now, gladly, this is a post about how despite my own imperfections (and my occasionally unfortunate affliction of a personality) I'm going to continue to strive to be better at everything I do. I'm also going to attempt to be more confident with everything I do. Currently, this means more assertively pursuing what I want—or more specifically, who I want. :-)
I think this is a long enough post, and I hope that anyone who actually took the time to read it got something out of it. I try to be clear in my thoughts with these things, but it's not an essay or anything, so I'm not going to go back and make sure all of my points were covered or that my logic isn't flawed. Lol.
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
Introspection After a Long Day
It has been a very long day, as every Wednesday this semester will be.
I lie awake in bed, contemplating life yet again...introspecting, if you will. At the moment, all I wish is to fall asleep, so I can have a good night tonight and a better day tomorrow. This is not going to be the case because I can't sleep when my mind isn't settled. The people I would normally talk to about this are all busy. So, I go to my old friend, upon whose presence I can always count: my blog. I can tell my blog anything and never receive a negative judgment in return. I can trust that I'll be heard out, however long it takes me to say what I want to say. The only thing I can't expect is comfort. Thank goodness for fleece blankets.
So much is running through my mind right now. It's tying my stomach into knots. If I didn't have a vocal career to think about, I would be in a practice room working on my comfort composition—one I started when I was rather depressed, and which I work on whenever I'm in a mood—belting out whatever emotion is preventing my rest.
I'm thinking about the past. There is so much I regret not doing. So many times when, if I had had the courage, I could have done something I really wanted to do. My lack of confidence (socially, mostly, but in other areas as well) has plagued me all my life. I didn't have real friends until junior year in high school because I was too shy to introduce myself or talk to people before they talked to me. I didn't do anything performance-wise (besides choir) until late in high school either. I doubted my abilities, my ideas, my looks, my intellect, etc. to the point where I literally spent the majority of my time in school, studying, or volunteering as an administrator for a now-huge online non-prof organization.
I'm thinking about today. I don't know exactly how I'm going to make it through this semester, let alone the next 6 or so. I'm going to be struggling...seemingly alone in the hopes that it'll all be better one day. On top of this, I still have to force myself to break away from my shy, rather meek outward personality. This is probably the worst thing I deal with from day to day. A lack of confidence in myself automatically makes everything my fault. If something doesn't work out, it's because I'm not good enough. If I get a low grade, it's because I'm not good enough. If plans fall through with a friend, it's because I'm not good enough. If I sing a run wrong, it's because I'm not good enough. Why do I think this? Good question. The only thing, I think, that keeps me sane is the fact that I know I can sing. I have a vocal talent and I have a good voice. Other than that, what have I got? I'm mediocre at theory. I suck at history. I'm decent with diction. I'm too shy to talk to the guy I like—who, as far as i know, has no idea I like him.
I'm thinking about tomorrow. I have a theory lab I'm unprepared for. I have readings to do for class. I have a job. I'm still struggling with myself personally. What the hell am I doing? Maybe tomorrow will be a better day. Maybe I'll feel renewed energy towards self-improvement. Maybe I'll have more confidence in myself. Maybe not. Who knows.
Will I ever be good enough? My damn type-A personality says no. No matter what I accomplish, I'm never going to feel like it was enough. But when I really think about what I want right now—perhaps my goals are skewed, but—I don't think about my long-term future. I don't think about singing. I don't think about composing. I don't think about being the best at something. I don't think about getting good grades, or making a good impression, or changing the world. I think about how all I want is someone to hold me and tell me they love me. And mean it in the same way I do every time I say those words.
Maybe now, after writing out my feelings, I'll be able to sleep... it's going to be a long night, I think. Goodnight.
I lie awake in bed, contemplating life yet again...introspecting, if you will. At the moment, all I wish is to fall asleep, so I can have a good night tonight and a better day tomorrow. This is not going to be the case because I can't sleep when my mind isn't settled. The people I would normally talk to about this are all busy. So, I go to my old friend, upon whose presence I can always count: my blog. I can tell my blog anything and never receive a negative judgment in return. I can trust that I'll be heard out, however long it takes me to say what I want to say. The only thing I can't expect is comfort. Thank goodness for fleece blankets.
So much is running through my mind right now. It's tying my stomach into knots. If I didn't have a vocal career to think about, I would be in a practice room working on my comfort composition—one I started when I was rather depressed, and which I work on whenever I'm in a mood—belting out whatever emotion is preventing my rest.
I'm thinking about the past. There is so much I regret not doing. So many times when, if I had had the courage, I could have done something I really wanted to do. My lack of confidence (socially, mostly, but in other areas as well) has plagued me all my life. I didn't have real friends until junior year in high school because I was too shy to introduce myself or talk to people before they talked to me. I didn't do anything performance-wise (besides choir) until late in high school either. I doubted my abilities, my ideas, my looks, my intellect, etc. to the point where I literally spent the majority of my time in school, studying, or volunteering as an administrator for a now-huge online non-prof organization.
I'm thinking about today. I don't know exactly how I'm going to make it through this semester, let alone the next 6 or so. I'm going to be struggling...seemingly alone in the hopes that it'll all be better one day. On top of this, I still have to force myself to break away from my shy, rather meek outward personality. This is probably the worst thing I deal with from day to day. A lack of confidence in myself automatically makes everything my fault. If something doesn't work out, it's because I'm not good enough. If I get a low grade, it's because I'm not good enough. If plans fall through with a friend, it's because I'm not good enough. If I sing a run wrong, it's because I'm not good enough. Why do I think this? Good question. The only thing, I think, that keeps me sane is the fact that I know I can sing. I have a vocal talent and I have a good voice. Other than that, what have I got? I'm mediocre at theory. I suck at history. I'm decent with diction. I'm too shy to talk to the guy I like—who, as far as i know, has no idea I like him.
I'm thinking about tomorrow. I have a theory lab I'm unprepared for. I have readings to do for class. I have a job. I'm still struggling with myself personally. What the hell am I doing? Maybe tomorrow will be a better day. Maybe I'll feel renewed energy towards self-improvement. Maybe I'll have more confidence in myself. Maybe not. Who knows.
Will I ever be good enough? My damn type-A personality says no. No matter what I accomplish, I'm never going to feel like it was enough. But when I really think about what I want right now—perhaps my goals are skewed, but—I don't think about my long-term future. I don't think about singing. I don't think about composing. I don't think about being the best at something. I don't think about getting good grades, or making a good impression, or changing the world. I think about how all I want is someone to hold me and tell me they love me. And mean it in the same way I do every time I say those words.
Maybe now, after writing out my feelings, I'll be able to sleep... it's going to be a long night, I think. Goodnight.
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