Inadvertent Sleep Deprivation

Despite attempting to go to sleep around eleven last night, I ended up reading until two-thirty this morning. Sleep has been illusive lately, which is annoying, but last night it’s absence allowed me to read a book from cover to cover.

That’s something I haven’t done lately. It was refreshing.

I still haven’t remedied the watch situation. I considered buying a new band, but that’s equitable to buying a new watch. I could buy a new watch, but I don’t really want to. So at this point I’m thinking of making or at least rigging up a new band. That of course is going to take some ingenuity.

Although, I must say it’s interesting to have gone without a watch for the last week. You begin to realize just how reliant you are upon being able to know exactly what time it is. In many ways not having a watch seems to make time more important, because you think over it more. Yet, at the same time it becomes less important because it is less accessible.

Do you think we over exaggerate the importance of time in our everyday lives?

Moments of Worry

I can’t understand why it is so easy to be motivated before I actually sit down to write… and then when faced with a blank screen my mind goes suddenly blank. Well… that’s not quite true.

At any rate earlier today I was thinking about how we always ask people how they are doing, and the standard answer to that standard question is, “I’m alright”. But are we? Is that answer ever wholly true when we give it in reply?

Not generally. Usually there is something on our minds that eating away at us. How honest are we with the people around us? How honest are we with ourselves?

I’m not alright. I’m worried; worried about the next week, the next month, and rest of the year. I feel tested and stretched, cornered and unsure. Things will get easier, eventually. If eventually could be tomorrow that would be great, but if not it’ll be alright.

That’s the thing about rough patches, their difficult in moment but once you’ve gone through them you are able to appreciate the role that they have played in building your character.

My Watch

The other day I broke my watch. Well, not technically the other day, more like last Saturday. And when I say I broke it, that’s not quite what I mean either… the watch itself is intact but I definitely ripped the band away from the watch itself.
It’s not something I did on purpose mind you.

You see I was at work last Saturday, and was working in the fudge shop. This means of course wearing gloves when handling the fudge, but then having to remove them every time you move to the register. So at some point I moved to the register and attempted to remove the glove, which got caught on my watch.

Instead of waiting until I was done with the customer and then moving away from the counter to inspect the situation, you know, like a rational person, I gave the glove a swift tug. This of course removed the glove, but also resulted in my watch flying off my wrist.

Of course, the customer was standing right there, and he very astutely said, “You broke your watch.” Really? How would I have noticed had he not pointed it out?

So anyway, I’ve gone since Saturday without a watch, because I keep forgetting to remedy the situation. Except for when I look at my wrist expecting my watch to be there… then I remember rather quickly.

Anyway, back to philosophy. Geez, it’s going to be a long night.

Alice Paul

Alice Paul is a hero. She was a tenacious woman who fought for the rights she so fervently believed that she and those of her gender deserved. In every history class that I have ever taken the woman’s suffragist movement and the important role played by Alice Paul and the National Women’s Party is glossed over.

We like to think in this day and age that we have managed to overcome so many of our past struggles, but such growth is not something that comes easily, and certainly nothing that occurs when we fail to highlight its relevance in history.

In the early twentieth century the battle for women’s right to vote was still raging. The problem stemmed largely from a reluctance to demand for, rather than ask for, the right to vote. Alice Paul and Lucy Burns were willing to make demands.

They banded together with other like-minded women and began picketing outside the White House gates in 1917. Later that year, their picketing led to arrests and prison sentences, but they refused to give up their battle. They were strong and determined.
During their time spent behind bars they were subjected to horrendous living conditions, and force feedings when they attempted to refuse to eat in protest of their captivity. Those who continued to picket were attacked by mobs of citizens who themselves went uncharged.

And yet they persisted. They persevered. They won.

Alice Paul is my hero. Who is yours?

Class...Maybe

Today was strange. Not terribly strange, but strange all the same. I had class this morning, or you know, was supposed to have class this morning. My math teacher is generally late, though of course today he didn’t even show up. A little after eight a lady came and let us in the room and informed us all that a substitute was on the way. The substitute hadn’t been informed that she had a class to teach until 7:30 for an eight o’clock class.

All in all she wasn’t too bad a sub, though she didn’t actually know what section we were on and obviously didn’t have any plans for a lecture. It was a very on the spot class and I was out a half an hour early. So, after that delightful hour and half I made my way downstairs to the alcove near my Psychology class.

I sat there for an hour and a half and did my reading for philosophy, which was rather dull. My initial thoughts were that it would be an interesting class… yeah, alright, sure. So I finished my reading and headed off to Psychology, only to discover that class had been cancelled.

This translated into two hours more of sitting in another alcove to wait for my brother to get out
of class. At least I managed to get most of my Abnormal Psychology reading done.

The day did get better though. The nap I took once I got home was fantastic, plus I didn’t forget to write and post this. Here’s to a week on the right track. :D

Why

I wasn’t sure what to write for this, my second post of the day… and then I wondered why? Why…Why…Why? The infinite unknown why, why what? Have you ever wondered how many times in a lifetime we invoke the word why? Why war? Why peace? Why be nice? Why be cruel? Why care? Why give in to apathy?

To every why that we might ask, there is a complimentary other why that may be posed, it’s the question whose answer remains forever illusive. It is the infinite word that is every little child’s favorite. It’s the question we all ask, the answer we all seek. Why do we do as we do? Why do we continually question? Why should we cease to question? Why did that happen? Why did we let it? Why couldn’t we stop it?

The questions are many and the answers are few and far between.

Yet again we are faced by a new why. Why are the answers so few? Why does the unknown outbalance the known, and how do we know when we are there? How is the answer to be recognized for its veracity?

Why do we, the collective human race, focus so adamantly on the minor and so blatantly shun the major? Why is it that youth offers us the chance to have a black and white view of the world while adulthood exposes the grey’s?

A Moment Past

In the summer of 2000, I was eleven years old and taking part in a mission trip with the church that my family and I used to attend. There is a moment from that trip that seems to be coming to mind frequently in the last several weeks.

I keep remembering a particular conversation that I had with a friend of mine during that trip. It seemed like a strange question for her to ask me, and more than a little morbid. What she wanted to know is if I were to die, what three people was I certain would be at my funeral.
Looking back at how the conversation played out, I now realize the whole purpose of my response was to gauge our friendship. I was supposed to give a particular answer, which became obvious when I failed to give it. I didn’t include her in the list.

Now, I’m almost certain when she pointed this out to me I made up your standard excuses. You know, like “Well of course you would be there, I assumed that was a given since you asked the question…”. But the point is, I didn’t include her in the list. Which looking back is interesting. (Though I would like to point out, at the time the failure to include her was unintentional.)

The context you would need to know, in order to see why this is interesting, is that three or four years after this conversation my family left that church due to unrelated reasons. Also, she was the pastor’s grand-daughter and from Ohio, so the only time we ever talked or were in contact was over the summer.

Needless to say we lost contact years ago. So did I know on some level that she wouldn’t be at my hypothetical funeral? Maybe, possibly I realized on some level that we weren’t that close. I do remember however, listing off my two best friends. They were on that list, and they would still be on that list, and interestingly enough she still wouldn’t be.

Looking at this moment as opposed to so many moments in the past, I see some clarity. For once I’m not looking back and realizing how wrong I used to be. It’s not a moment in time that I look at and think of how naïve I was. For once it’s an opportunity to look at my past beliefs and see that some things really do never change.

The Past

Is it strange to view the past as something tangible? At one moment all of our yesterdays are right there, laid out in front of us, close enough to touch; and the next moment they're so far way, separated by the great, unyielding abyss that is time.

If it were possible to run into your past selves just walking out and about, I'm certain I wouldn't recognize myself. I feel like I've changed so much in the last twenty years. The individual goes through so many changes within the course of a year, that to pin point to source of growth as a person develops into this insurmountable task.

Change you say? I hate to say that I've changed though, because while I have in a way obvious to myself, essentially I'm the same as I ever was. This is to say, anyone who knows me, and has known me for any amount of time may not be aware of the changes that I see in myself. I'm as reliable as I've ever been, and I still care fiercely about the people around me but I've also found that I'm more relaxed now than I've ever been. I feel more in control, and less weighted down. (Most of the time anyway, I still have my moments…) I also doubt myself less, which saves me from a lot of the stress that I once placed upon myself. (But sometimes the doubt is still difficult to ditch.)

[Maybe tomorrow I’ll be able to expand on this in my two posts. Eh.]

This being said... Do you sense these changes in yourself? Do you think others notice these changes? Would you recognized the 'you' of the past if you saw them walking down the street?

Intangibility of Time

Time is a funny and fleeting thing.

There are moments where we feel that the time we have is not enough. The lament, “If only I had more time...” is far too common. When asked why we didn’t complete an assignment, or make a call, or visit a friend, time remains our reason. “I didn’t have the time.”
And yet the reverse of this is true also.

There are moments in which we complain of too much time, although we don’t necessarily phrase it this way. More often than not the realization of this plight comes in the form of a complaint of boredom. Stuck in traffic, or stuck at work, or stuck at school, wherever it is we are convinced that it is a waste of our valuable time.

It’s a cycle that we are continually caught in. We are the hamster and time is our wheel. The only question that remains then is how may we abandon the wheel? How may we find value even in those moments that we see as wasted?

I don’t have the answers, though I share the plight. But it’s a question that I’d like think over and consider, because I’m tired of wasting time, and wasting energy over feeling that I am wasting time.

Fail.

So I’m the resident moron who remembered that I needed to post yesterday, and then forgot. Yesterday was strange, and I swear if votes had been taken, I would have been voted most scatterbrained. My problem stemmed from the fact that I didn’t plan on going into work… and then I got called in, and of course, who am I to say no?

Saying yes though wasn’t the greatest idea, because after I hung up the phone I remembered the mound of homework I had yet to do. An intelligent move, I thoroughly realize this. So, in an attempt to fix my mistake I hauled a couple books to work with me and was able to tackle some of the reading during my lunch break.

Inevitably the day didn’t get much better. I closed the department, and headed home. Of course I managed to walk past the switchboard and completely forget that I had the department keys in shirt pocket. In fact, I managed to drive part of the way home before realizing that I still had them. This meant turning back around and going back in the building to turn them in. As you can imagine, I was thrilled.

So once I got over the whole key fiasco, I managed to drive myself home. The whole way here I remembered that I had a blog post to write and post, in fact I even contemplated what I wanted to write. I was pretty sure I had it all figured out by the time I walked in the door… At that point it was about 10:00.

Did I come right in, grab my computer and start typing? No. Of course not! I sat around in the living room and watched the end of a movie. Then of course I came in and got my computer from my room. Did I blog? Heck no. I did however check YouTube, and my e-mail and couple authors’ blogs. Then I sat my computer aside.

By the time I remembered my complete failure to write and post an entry to this blog, it was ten to one. Smart move, I know. So now, thanks to my complete lack of focus yesterday I will be posting twice on Saturday… and I have to work… oh yeah, it’ll be fun.
At least there are only two more days, aside from punishment day, of posting. I think I can manage to hold things together and keep with the schedule. Although I thought I could manage that to begin with, and look where that got me…

Poetry in Physics

Last semester I took a physics course, which at the time seemed to have been a bad idea but turned out alright. That said, I will never take a physics class again. I learned my lesson and I learned it quick.

Anyway during one of the class periods I grew particularly bored thus I turned to poetry. The following poem is the one that I began during that class and finished later that day during Trigonometry. A great use of my time, I know, but I passed both classes and that's all that matters, right...?

(Untitled)

Tomorrow’s fly in and out,
And around
And about,
As I wonder and wander; and think and ponder.
Time like a cage consumes my time,
Routine binds and obligation compels,
Days drift and change foretells
But day to day
Same prevails.
To close my eyes and the world fades,
Isolation
Solitary
The peace of voices no longer
Jostling
Shouting
The quiet of darkness filled
With thoughts chatter
Like mice paws,
padding across the ground
The irregular beat,
of erratic movement
My thoughts
Buzz Hum
Turing around a solitary point
I worry and think; And think to worry
Torn at the seams, falling to pieces
Pooling uselessly to the ground
The cadence of despair
A future uncertain, Conflicting wants
And truths
And dreams
And realities
Lingering over the hope
For tomorrow
Trudging through the muck
Of today

Books That Resonate

Months ago now, I read I Know This Much is True by Wally Lamb. It’s one of those novels that sticks with you long after the last sentence is read. It’s one of the most honestly written ‘adult’ novels that I’ve read in a while.

The main character isn’t particularly likeable, and yet he’s not unlikable either. He’s human, and fallible and prone to making mistakes that we all swear we ourselves would never make, but secretly know we are capable of making.

His twin brother has schizophrenia, and this scares him. More aptly it terrifies him, because he is constantly confronted by this man who is physically his mirror image and yet distinctly different. They are two sides of a single coin that see the world from seemingly different perspectives. He takes role of being his brother’s caretaker, and in this role is guilt, and resentment, fear, and worry.

He loves his brother and yet to love someone you don’t always have to like them. He struggles with this concept continually through the novel. And yet… there is hope at the end of that proverbial tunnel. Where darkness seemingly prevails, light may break through.

I Know This Much Is True is a novel about what it truly means to love. It depicts the sacrifice and pain involved in watching those dearest to you suffer, but also the anger and fear that this sacrifice may fuel. Further, it’s a novel about redemption and finding out that sometimes you had what you craved all along, it was right in front of you and you just never opened your eyes to see it.

A Rambling Mess

What defines a day as having been a good one? What are stipulations which make the statement, “Today was a good day” true? I would suppose that it first depends on the person making the statement.

That being said, today was a good day.

It’s not that today was anything much out of the ordinary, but more that it was rather ordinary. I got to spend the day with one of my best friends, and thereby not have to think about paying for school and going to work. Lately money has been the bane of my existence. The problem is that everything seems to demand its presence and yet its presence is sorely lacking.

Ah, the joys of being a college student; adult enough to be expected to be responsible for your own finances, and yet not adult enough to be established in a line of work that allows you to earn a wage that meets the demands of tuition and outrageously priced textbooks.

But that’s the thing about age. For every year we move beyond adolescence, those who decry our naiveté also take another step up that ladder. For our fiercest critics we will never be old enough, wise enough, or adult enough. To them age is the eternal standard by which we will be evaluated. Those critics will not take into account the experiences with which our lives have been built upon.

It’s a frustrating cycle, and I am rambling. I am a rambling mess, and on that note...

Abnormal Psychology

Last night I watched this video…



… and it made me laugh until I had tears streaming down my face. Honestly this hasn’t been my week, but that video cheered me up immensely! :D

In Abnormal Psych. Today we were going taking notes today, and somehow the lecture turned to a conversation about Billy Mays. I have no recollection of why or how the lecture took such a bizarre turn, but there you have it. But honestly, is there anything that man won’t sell?

Tonight I have to buckle down and tackle the mound of homework I have for my Shakespeare class. I’m taking it online, and the lecture DVD’s finally came in the mail today. Oh the fun I shall have… I may have to give John’s video another viewing… Oh procrastination, how I adore thee! :D

Unorthodox Q&A

This was taken from John Green, who stole it from Facebook. Type your name into Google with the verb that comes after in the question. Answer with your favorites from the first page of google results. I was entertained, though honestly I’m easily entertained… enjoy!

Q: Type in "[your name] needs" in the Google search.

A: “Sandy needs someone to save her before she can save herself.” “Sandy needs to decide if she’s happy or not.” (That would be a good idea.)

Q: Type in "[your name] looks like" in Google search.

A: “Sandy looks like sunshine in this soft yellow scarf.” (I can live with that. :D )

Q: Type in "[your name] says" in Google search.

A: “Sandy says I am not following her on Twitter.” (I’m not.)

Q: Type in "[your name] wants" in Google search.

A: “Sandy wants to drive.” (I do.)

Q:Type in "[your name] does" in Google search.

A: “Sandy does not respond to all of my e-mails.” (Sorry?)

Q: Type in "[your name] hates" in Google search.

A: “Sandy hates you.” (Lies, honestly. I really don’t! :D )

Q: Type in "[your name] asks" in Google search.

A: “Sandy asks if anyone has any news.” (Well? Do you?)

Q: Type in "[your name] likes " in Google search.

A: “Sandy likes everyone who likes cats.” (Well, maybe not everyone.)

Q: Type in "[your name] eats " in Google search.

A: “Sandy eats grass.” (That one seemed to be referring to a horse… though I do have a picture from when I am considerably younger with a glass full of mud. Yum, yum.)

Q: Type in "[your name] wears " in Google search.

A: “Sandy wears her cheerleader outfit from the pep rally where she reunited with Danny!” (Ah, Grease. For a time my cousin did call me Sandra Dee.) “Sandy wears an air-filled suit that looks much like an astronaut’s suit.” (And Sandy Cheeks from SpongeBob… strangely enough I was once called that too…)

Q: Type in "[your name] was arrested for" in Google Search.

A: “Sandy was arrested for growing 45 marijuana plants in a field.” (Not me. I swear.) “Sandy was arrested for Murder.” (Most definitely not me.)

Q: Type in "[your name] loves" in Google Search.

A. “Sandy loves Jimmy.” (Who the f* is Jimmy…?)

Just Another Monday

Classes started today. Thankfully it looks like Algebra is going to turn out better this time around. Though I readily admit, it was insane to take more than one math class at a time, let alone three. I also just got the official transcript that I had them send me in the mail, which means that MSU has probably received the one that I had sent their way.

I just submitted the application last week and already I’m impatient to hear one way or another. Patience may be a virtue, but it’s not one I seem to posses.

Thankfully this whole blogging thing seems to be getting easier. Already I’ve managed to compose and post an entry prior to 11pm. :D

Because I am so uninteresting, I leave you with this…



And this…

Procrastination

This is only the first week of my project and yet I seem to have fallen into a pattern. I am, by nature, a procrastinator. All day I’ve considered the fact that I needed to write something for this blog, and yet I failed to put fingers to keys prior to this point. With an hour left to post I am finally composing an entry.

I suppose I could work to purge myself of this habit, but again that would take the motivation to do so and that is motivation which I lack. Maybe next week will result in better time management. Honestly though, I doubt it. :D

Prison

Yesterday I started reading Tom Clancy’s “Executive Orders” and there is this one line that I can’t stop thinking about. “The real prison was, and would always be, himself” (21).

I guess what intrigues me about this line is how accurate it is. We live out our lives surrounded by shifting prisons. When we are young school acts as our prison, later it is the jobs that we hold, and always there are limitations that accompany our age and health. But this line touches on the most important of all the prisons that we find ourselves entrapped in.

We ourselves act as our own prisons. The bars that bind us are no less capable of holding us captive though they are invisible. Our thoughts and our doubts imprison us. They are what hold us accountable and in some instances hold us back.

Today

Today I will go to work. Thankfully I won’t be downstairs, meaning I won’t have to deal with those customers who will inevitably want to know why we don’t still have more Christmas ornaments. The answer of course is that it is January, and we don’t generally carry them much after Christmas.

A crazy concept to grasp, I know.

No, today I get to sell furniture. Or you know, walk around the department and look busy; because I highly doubt the store itself will be busy on a Wednesday night.

I could always be wrong I suppose, but then again I highly doubt that I am.

Too Lazy

Because I'm far too lazy to write anything decent, I'm filling out this survey. Frighteningly original, I know.

1. What is your name?
Sandy, though honestly my middle name is more interesting.

2. When were you born?
January 2, 1989

3. Are you single or taken?
Single

4. What is your favorite color?
Green, more specifically the color of my bedroom walls which is known as Irish Meadow Green.

5. What is your favorite place to be?
Home

6. What is your favorite food?
Mashed Potatoes, they are awesome.

7. What is your favorite season?
Spring

8. Are you named after anyone?
I’m named after the woman who introduced my parents.

9. Have you told anyone you loved them and not meant it?
No.

10. Do you want to be in love with someone?
Someday

11. Would you take a bullet for someone?
It would depend on the circumstances, but they’d definitely owe me for it.

12. Do you hate anyone?
No, it’s a waste of time and energy.

13. Does anyone hate you?
It’s possible.

14. Do you like math?
Not particularly. Math and I do not tend to see eye to eye.

15. Last thing you ate?
Macaroni and Cheese

16. I say Shotgun, you say:
“Ok”. Chances are I’m driving anyway.

17. Baseball or Football?
Football

18. Favorite holiday:
New Years, because it means my birthday is soon to follow.

19. Would you date the person who posted this?
Considering I am the one posting this… no.

20. Have you ever bungee jumped?
Hell no!

21. Have you ever gone white-water rafting?
No though I wouldn’t rule it out.

22. Has anyone ten years older than you ever hit on you?
Yes. It was strange and awkward.

23. What is your current favorite song?
Who I am Hates Who I’ve Been- Relient K

24. Where was the last place you went besides your house?
Walmart, I had to buy cake mix for my brother’s birthday cake.

25. What are you afraid of?
Spiders. Ew.

26. Favorite TV show?
Grey’s Anatomy

27. Favorite smell?
New Book or Newsprint

28. Last time you went bowling?
I was in a bowling alley last Friday and Saturday, but it’s been years since I’ve actually bowled.

29. Last time you were at work?
Sunday

Writing and Why it Matters

I have always been the ‘quiet one’. It’s not something that I do consciously but rather a habit I seem to have grown into in my twenty years of life. For me writing is where I find my voice. It is where I am able to open up and allow myself to breathe outside the tight walls of silence that I have built around me. Part of my habit for silence is fed by my fear of being wrong. While I understand that it’s silly to fear to make mistakes because obviously that is how we learn, that understanding does nothing to quench my overwhelming desire to be right. Up until eighth grade I had always loved to read, and wished that I could write so well as my favorite authors. I was convinced that I had no talent with words. But Ms. Adams thought differently, and she made sure that I knew she did. From that point on I gained a new confidence in my ability to write, and drew strength from my new found voice. I found that there were things that were difficult to say out loud that I could write down. I also found comfort in poetry, short stories and keeping a sporadic journal. Writing matters because words have the power to fuel discussion and bridge the gap between distance and time. Writing allows for ideas to be shared, preserved and remembered long after they may have been forgotten. It’s important because words can remind us of bonds that we share. Writing is about the invocation of emotions and tapping into the core of what makes us human.

I recently read John Green’s new book “Paper Towns” which is this amazing book that looks at the ways that we, the collective human population, fail to imagine each other correctly. Every character in the book fails to correctly imagine the female lead, Margo. No two people understand her to be the same person. When speaking about his book John has said,

"When the characters in the book look at Margo, they don’t see Margo, they don’t
see anything essentially true about Margo. What they see is some funhouse mirror
reflection of themselves”.

This is reflective of the way that we interact with each other on a daily basis. When we look at other people our view is clouded by our understanding of ourselves. This means that we cannot ever be them and understand absolutely who they are and what they have gone through because we are so absorbed by who we are and what we have gone through. This is why writing is so important. Books, essays, and blogs can afford us the opportunity to stand in someone else’s shoes. They allow us to give ourselves up to the thoughts of someone else and move outside our own heads. Writing is important because it reminds us of the connections that we have with other people.

The Project

In the past year, I’ve realized that I don’t write as much as I used to outside of what is necessary for school. This seems strange when you consider I’m working toward a degree in journalism. Essentially I want to write for a living and yet I seem to write less now than I used to. This is the year that that is all going to change.

Or at least, an attempt at change is going to be made.

Therefore the goal of this blog will be to write regularly. Of course this is obviously too vague a goal without having some ground rules.

Therefore…

The Rules

1. I have to post something once a day, Mon-Fri.
2. It may be in any written format (Poem, list, narrative, ect.), but it must contain no fewer than 100 words.
3. The content must be posted no later than 11:59pm eastern time.

Now of course, rules are fine and well, but if there are going to be rules there need to be penalties for breaking those rules.

Punishment

If one of the above rules is broken then…

…for each missed day I have to write two entries which will be posted on Saturday and Sunday. The catch is that the posts must be made on the same day (unless the number of posts required is greater than 4), but at least a half-hour must pass between the posting of each entry. These entries may be made no earlier than 12am on Saturday and no later than 11:59pm on Sunday. Their minimum length is 200 words.

So the challenge starts tonight, on my twentieth birthday. In the following year I look forward to taking more time for myself. This is the year that I break my silence and unleash the words, that for so long tethered to writing English papers (and most recently physics papers…). This year I embark on journey of words