Over the past week I have gone on two nature walks. One of which took place at Belle Isle with Savannah and the other one of which took place on the JMU campus with two of my best-friends: Alana and Darryl. On both walks I got to see some very pretty things, all of which were made prettier by the soft colors of fall.
I have always been an “outdoorsy” girl, and when the weather is nice (and a lot of times even when it isn’t) you will find me outside. I’m not sure what it is about the outdoors that makes so happy, but does. Whether I’m running in the cool, early morning of fall, hiking in the George Washington National Forest on a nice spring day, swimming under the hot sun on a summer afternoon, or sitting on the front porch swing under blankets, drinking hot chocolate and laughing with friends, I’m always much happier when outside. I feel a peace that I find it hard to achieve anywhere else. I go outside when I need to think, or when I need a break from the mounds of homework that seem to consume my life these days. I exercise outside, do my homework outside, and often spend time with loved ones out under the warm sun.
I feel most at peace in two specific places: the mountains and near water of any kind. I’m not sure why the mountains have always made me feel at peace, but they have. I love to be in the mountains; regardless of whether or not I’m hiking and camping, just driving around, or visiting a national monument. When near the water I always feel at peace and extremely relaxed. It doesn’t matter if its an ocean, a river or lake, or a simple little creek; it always has the simple ability to make me extremely relaxed.
On my walk at Belle Isle I was by the water, and felt more relaxed than I had in weeks. The James River is one of my favorite places and I think it is so neat to have such a beautiful thing so close to home. When I went on my walk at JMU I was in the mountains. The air was so crisp and fresh, and even though it was freezing I felt more free and at peace than I had in a long time.
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Monday, October 5, 2009
Sublime
When thinking of what to write for this week’s topic “feeling the sublime” I was a little concerned that I had never felt anything that could account for this, but after reading a few other people’s posts I decided that instead of having to write about something scary or horrifying, I could write about something joyful, something that made me so overwhelmingly happy and free.
My senior year in high school I was a member of my school’s yearbook staff. Now I’m sure you’re thinking that this can’t possibly be exciting, at all, and could be nowhere near to sublime, but wait, it gets better. I had been on the yearbook staff the previous year, but my senior year, I was a veteran. I had pull, and experience, I knew what worked and what didn’t. I hadn’t been there as long as my friend Stacey (who had a year on me), but I was one of only 6 returning members, so those 6 of us were in charge. We had lost the teacher we had had the year before to another job and we were all skeptical and frightened of who the new teacher could possibly be. I remember sitting in that dusty, cluttered classroom at 11:47am waiting for the new teacher to arrive and our fate to be decided. The room was full of new kids, quiet and reserved, all seated in the back, almost scared to death of the 6 of us that had formed an unbreakable bond with each other the year before. I was surrounded in the front by the rest of the veterans, and a few senior friends of mine that had decided to give the class a shot. Ten minutes after meeting the new teacher half the class wanted to quit, starting with the 6 of us that had already dedicated a year of our lives (two in Stacey’s case) to the cause, and we weren’t ready to just throw away all our hard work for nothing.
Okay okay, so now I’ll get to the point of the story…
We worked hard; harder than I’ve ever worked my entire life. We came to school two hours early, stayed four hours late; ate vending machine food and had Pete (our faithful night-shift janitor) “leave the lights on for us” on more than one occasion. We took over the floors of the hallway with our ladders and spreads, and massive amounts of other school’s yearbooks. There were lots of second period Physics classes spent rushing through my assignments so that I could get to the yearbook room and work. Many a seventh period AP-Honors British Literature class skipped in order to make a deadline, many a lunch spent eating a slice of pizza in between moving pictures and rewriting quotes. Every teacher at Hermitage High School hated us by the first semester was over, if not because we were often seen dancing in the halls to “Cyclone” in the middle of fifth period (who knew that was a distraction to World History I and US Government?) or from yanking kids out of class because we needed a quote, a picture, or just needed something. We fought with ourselves, and oh man did we fight with each other?! There were doors slammed, things broken, and tears were cried. But through all of it, we never stopped working. By the end of the year, we were like one big family (or at least most of us were) and there wasn’t much we weren’t capable of doing, as long as we worked together. We stayed up late, had group lunches, and even travelled to the Columbia Scholastic Press Association’s annual yearbook conference at Columbia University in New York City. For a few of us on the trip it was our first time flying, and for some, their first time in New York. Many new friendships were formed, some were broken, but in the end we conquered what everyone else had said was impossible: taking a staff of 6 veterans, 13 newcomers, and a teacher who had never done this before, and turning them into a staff. A staff who overcame all of our differences, though it took up until a few days before the final proofs were sent in to do so, and who produced a book that no one thought they could.
The sublime part of this story: the day of reckoning, fee night the following year: the day our yearbooks were released. When I opened the book for the first time I felt an overwhelming rush of emotion. Not only because it was my SENIOR yearbook, but also because I knew that I had helped make this. I had put in hours of hard work, sweat, and tears into that book. I had fought with friends, I had grown closer to friends, I had done things I told myself I would never do. I was ecstatic with the end result, and was so proud of myself and my fellow staff members that it was probably scary. I felt free. Free because for once in my life I had something tangible to hold in front of myself that showed that I had done a good job. Something that meant more than a goal in soccer, would be seen by more people than my 3rd grade report grade that contained all A’s, and did a wonderful job of summing up the best year of life I had experienced thus far.
My senior year in high school I was a member of my school’s yearbook staff. Now I’m sure you’re thinking that this can’t possibly be exciting, at all, and could be nowhere near to sublime, but wait, it gets better. I had been on the yearbook staff the previous year, but my senior year, I was a veteran. I had pull, and experience, I knew what worked and what didn’t. I hadn’t been there as long as my friend Stacey (who had a year on me), but I was one of only 6 returning members, so those 6 of us were in charge. We had lost the teacher we had had the year before to another job and we were all skeptical and frightened of who the new teacher could possibly be. I remember sitting in that dusty, cluttered classroom at 11:47am waiting for the new teacher to arrive and our fate to be decided. The room was full of new kids, quiet and reserved, all seated in the back, almost scared to death of the 6 of us that had formed an unbreakable bond with each other the year before. I was surrounded in the front by the rest of the veterans, and a few senior friends of mine that had decided to give the class a shot. Ten minutes after meeting the new teacher half the class wanted to quit, starting with the 6 of us that had already dedicated a year of our lives (two in Stacey’s case) to the cause, and we weren’t ready to just throw away all our hard work for nothing.
Okay okay, so now I’ll get to the point of the story…
We worked hard; harder than I’ve ever worked my entire life. We came to school two hours early, stayed four hours late; ate vending machine food and had Pete (our faithful night-shift janitor) “leave the lights on for us” on more than one occasion. We took over the floors of the hallway with our ladders and spreads, and massive amounts of other school’s yearbooks. There were lots of second period Physics classes spent rushing through my assignments so that I could get to the yearbook room and work. Many a seventh period AP-Honors British Literature class skipped in order to make a deadline, many a lunch spent eating a slice of pizza in between moving pictures and rewriting quotes. Every teacher at Hermitage High School hated us by the first semester was over, if not because we were often seen dancing in the halls to “Cyclone” in the middle of fifth period (who knew that was a distraction to World History I and US Government?) or from yanking kids out of class because we needed a quote, a picture, or just needed something. We fought with ourselves, and oh man did we fight with each other?! There were doors slammed, things broken, and tears were cried. But through all of it, we never stopped working. By the end of the year, we were like one big family (or at least most of us were) and there wasn’t much we weren’t capable of doing, as long as we worked together. We stayed up late, had group lunches, and even travelled to the Columbia Scholastic Press Association’s annual yearbook conference at Columbia University in New York City. For a few of us on the trip it was our first time flying, and for some, their first time in New York. Many new friendships were formed, some were broken, but in the end we conquered what everyone else had said was impossible: taking a staff of 6 veterans, 13 newcomers, and a teacher who had never done this before, and turning them into a staff. A staff who overcame all of our differences, though it took up until a few days before the final proofs were sent in to do so, and who produced a book that no one thought they could.
The sublime part of this story: the day of reckoning, fee night the following year: the day our yearbooks were released. When I opened the book for the first time I felt an overwhelming rush of emotion. Not only because it was my SENIOR yearbook, but also because I knew that I had helped make this. I had put in hours of hard work, sweat, and tears into that book. I had fought with friends, I had grown closer to friends, I had done things I told myself I would never do. I was ecstatic with the end result, and was so proud of myself and my fellow staff members that it was probably scary. I felt free. Free because for once in my life I had something tangible to hold in front of myself that showed that I had done a good job. Something that meant more than a goal in soccer, would be seen by more people than my 3rd grade report grade that contained all A’s, and did a wonderful job of summing up the best year of life I had experienced thus far.
Monday, September 28, 2009
Living the "ideal life"
To me, living a full life means living a life that you are happy with having. You don’t have to have a lot of money, a fancy car, a big house, a glamorous job, three college degrees, and the perfect little family to achieve that (although, for some people, that is exactly what makes them happy). When I think about living a life that you are happy with, a life that you are proud of, I often think of my dad and the life that he has lived. Through his life experiences he has taught me that it does not necessarily matter how high up you live your life, but how high up you hold your head while living it. The reason that my dad comes across as a perfect example to me is because he has not exactly lived the most “glamorous” life. He has many obstacles and challenges, has fallen to the bottom and turned right around gotten right back up. He lost his dad when he was only 8 years old and his mother was forced to go back to work in order to support four young children. He worked hard in school, but ultimately wound up dropping out in order to work full time and spend time with his friends. He and my mom married young, and before they were even 20 years old they were on the own. My dad continued to work his butt off in order to support him and my mom, and eventually, me. Even though he sometimes regrets that he never finished high school, went to college and got a degree, and then got, what society calls, a “real job”, he is very happy with what he has in life. We’ve never done really had to do without, we’ve always had a roof over our heads, food on our plates, clothes on our backs, and a little extra money on the side to travel and do things we wanted to do. My dad has taught me a lot of things in my short life, but the greatest thing that he has taught me was that as long as you’re happy with the life your living; you’re on the right track
With that being said, I wish to follow the example he has been providing me with since the day I was born. I want to live a life that I will be happy with, one that I will be proud of and will want to one day share with people. The life that I am living now is a little off track from what I think ideal would be for me, but that’s okay, because I have learned, that sometimes you have to get pushed off the tracks in order to realize that you were going in the wrong direction in the first place. I have made a lot of wrong decisions in my life; I’ve also made a lot of right ones. I have hurt people and I have been hurt. I (especially over the past year) have faced a lot of obstacles: some of which I pushed to the side and ignored, some I am still fighting with to this day, and some that I have overcome.
One of the biggest obstacles I have faced was how to get through the death of my grandmother in early March of this year. She had been sick since October of 2007 and she should have been dead a good four months before she left us. One of the reasons that this was hard was not only was she my grandmother, but she was also my best-friend and I loved her more than anything in this world. She never worked a day in her life, so she considered taking care of her 10 grand-children and 10 great-grand-children, her job; and that’s exactly what she did. She baby sat me when I was younger, she came to most, if not all, of my soccer games. She was there every Thanksgiving, every Christmas and Easter; she showed up at every birthday party, sent a card every Halloween, and called on every Valentine’s Day. She never missed a beat. She sat through the long nights of no sleep, listened to every wild dream, cooked many a grilled cheese sandwich, and spent many an hour playing board games with me. I could tell her anything and everything, and I did. She was the one person who never gave up on me, she’s the one who convinced me that it wasn’t crazy to want to be a pilot when everyone else just shook their heads, and when I wanted to be a marine biologist she bought me a bunch of plastic sea animals and told me it was start. Now that she’s no long here I’ve had to go through an Easter without her famous mashed potatoes, a Mother’s Day on which I avoided the card section at all costs, a birthday with no 8am wake-up call, and a family reunion full of good food and amazing company; all without her. I struggle with it a lot more than people think (cause I’ve always been the strong one), and every time something amazing in my life happens I have to stop myself from picking up the phone and calling her.
Even though I’ve had to fight through obstacle, and many others, it has made me a stronger person. I’ve learned that in order to help me be happy I have to do whatever it takes to keep the people who make me happy in my life. I’ve learned to not take things for granted. But most importantly, I have learned to never give up. No matter what it is, I’ve learned to keep my head high and just keep moving on.
With that being said, I wish to follow the example he has been providing me with since the day I was born. I want to live a life that I will be happy with, one that I will be proud of and will want to one day share with people. The life that I am living now is a little off track from what I think ideal would be for me, but that’s okay, because I have learned, that sometimes you have to get pushed off the tracks in order to realize that you were going in the wrong direction in the first place. I have made a lot of wrong decisions in my life; I’ve also made a lot of right ones. I have hurt people and I have been hurt. I (especially over the past year) have faced a lot of obstacles: some of which I pushed to the side and ignored, some I am still fighting with to this day, and some that I have overcome.
One of the biggest obstacles I have faced was how to get through the death of my grandmother in early March of this year. She had been sick since October of 2007 and she should have been dead a good four months before she left us. One of the reasons that this was hard was not only was she my grandmother, but she was also my best-friend and I loved her more than anything in this world. She never worked a day in her life, so she considered taking care of her 10 grand-children and 10 great-grand-children, her job; and that’s exactly what she did. She baby sat me when I was younger, she came to most, if not all, of my soccer games. She was there every Thanksgiving, every Christmas and Easter; she showed up at every birthday party, sent a card every Halloween, and called on every Valentine’s Day. She never missed a beat. She sat through the long nights of no sleep, listened to every wild dream, cooked many a grilled cheese sandwich, and spent many an hour playing board games with me. I could tell her anything and everything, and I did. She was the one person who never gave up on me, she’s the one who convinced me that it wasn’t crazy to want to be a pilot when everyone else just shook their heads, and when I wanted to be a marine biologist she bought me a bunch of plastic sea animals and told me it was start. Now that she’s no long here I’ve had to go through an Easter without her famous mashed potatoes, a Mother’s Day on which I avoided the card section at all costs, a birthday with no 8am wake-up call, and a family reunion full of good food and amazing company; all without her. I struggle with it a lot more than people think (cause I’ve always been the strong one), and every time something amazing in my life happens I have to stop myself from picking up the phone and calling her.
Even though I’ve had to fight through obstacle, and many others, it has made me a stronger person. I’ve learned that in order to help me be happy I have to do whatever it takes to keep the people who make me happy in my life. I’ve learned to not take things for granted. But most importantly, I have learned to never give up. No matter what it is, I’ve learned to keep my head high and just keep moving on.
Monday, September 21, 2009
Groups "Ideal Me" Posts
After reading my group members posts about their ideal selves I have found that everyone sees their ideal self as someone different than what they are right now. Everyone also seems to have different goals for their ideal self, some that seem reachable, some that don't. I liked that in Andy's post he talked about how the main thing that got in his way was himself. I find that I often have this problem when faced with situations in my own life. In Ebbony's post, I liked the way she broke up her essay into three different parts: her past self, her present self, and her future self. I also liked how in Ashley's post she said that even though she sees herself as a self-reliant person that when she looks deeper she "sees someone that is scared of the future and what it holds for me and my child". I like this because I think that even the most confident person is scared of what the future holds, I know that I am.
Monday, September 14, 2009
The Ideal Me...
What is my ideal self? Well, I honestly do not know how to answer that question. As I said in my ‘introducing me’ post, I find it very hard to write about myself. Not necessarily because I don’t find myself interesting, but mainly because I fear that how I see myself is so far off from how other people see me that they will think that I am two completely different people. After reading Ebbony’s piece about her ideal self I found it a lot easier to think of myself like she did, in three parts: the past me, the present me, and the future me.
The old version of me is a version that existed long before I came to J. Sarg. It was a version that inhabited my body up until my senior year in high school. That version of me was reserved, and quiet. I always lived in fear of what other people thought of me and how they saw me. That version of me tended to hide away from the world. I spent all my time living in a world of fiction. I spent many an hour in front of the TV watching anything from a show about a group of wild ER doctors just trying to make it from day to day without killing anyone to a show that followed the lives of four unique characters who travelled from planet to planet trying to defeat alien races and save Earth. That ‘me’ did not have social connections, I had friends, but they tended to be people with whom I shared a passion for that fiction world with. Back then, I did not like me. I was not a strong person and I had no self confidence. I got pushed around and walked all over. I was always the person for whom you could turn to for help and advice, but who never turned to anyone for help and advice of my own.
The current me has grown substantially since my senior year. I credit this growth mainly to my yearbook teacher my senior year, Molly Buckley, and the amazing group of friends that I formed that year. Ms. Buckley was one of the teachers that everyone wanted to have. She was loud and funny and made going to class seem like not so much of a bear. She did not care what others thought of her, and it showed. She is probably the most confident person that I have ever met. She taught me that it does not matter what others think of you and what they see in you. What matters is what you see in yourself. Her confidence was contagious and I soon found myself being more proud of myself than I ever had been. When our yearbooks were finally done and we all sat back and marveled at the creation we had produced I felt even better. I saw for the first time in my life just how much I was capable of doing, and that I was capable of doing it well.
My friends also helped to teach me that. I went through a transformation of sorts that summer, and walked away from a very rocky relationship with a very good friend. But I did not let it stop me; instead I used it to my advantage. I set out to show him that it was possible to be happy without him, and that I did not need to rely on him anymore. My friends were there for me every step of the way and instead of letting me walk away and not share my feelings with them like the old me would have done, they pushed and shoved and wouldn’t let go. Even people with whom I had never really talked to before became rocks to me and helped me to grow. The current me is still living in that life. The new me has a new found confidence, one that has only grown since I came to Sarg and made the friends that I have made, and kept the friends that I have kept. I am still shy and timid when it comes to some things, but I know for a fact that I hold my head a whole hell of a lot higher than I used too. I have overcome so many obstacles and have grown because of them. I recently lost my grandmother due to a serious of heart-attacks and strokes that spanned the time frame of six months. As hard as it was to lose her, and to watch as my family struggled to keep it together when the rock that held us up was gone, I learned probably the most important lesson of my life: live each day as though it is your last. I have learned to see the beauty in the little things, and when things bother me, I am now more likely to just walk away and give an issue up than to fight about it. I love more than I ever had, and I make sure that the people that I love know it. The current me has learned to never give up, ever. If my grandmother taught me anything over the 6 months that she was fighting for her life it was that you can never give up. She fought until the day she died to stay with us, and was as stubborn as a bull the entire time.
The future me, well I don’t know what exactly I want the future me to be like. I want to be strong and confident. I want to continue to work hard at everything I do and have the passion for the things that I have passion for now. I hope that the future me holds her head high and never lets anyone bring her down. In the future, I hope to have a good job, somewhere that I will be happy and will love what I do. I hope that in the future I get to continue to help people out, something that I have been passionate about for many years. I want my ideal self to love who I am, and to not be ashamed of the things that I have done and the things that I have been through in order to get to where I am. I want to have a family and friends that will love me and be there for me as they have been throughout the past 19 years of my life. In the future I want me to continue to, well, just be me.
The old version of me is a version that existed long before I came to J. Sarg. It was a version that inhabited my body up until my senior year in high school. That version of me was reserved, and quiet. I always lived in fear of what other people thought of me and how they saw me. That version of me tended to hide away from the world. I spent all my time living in a world of fiction. I spent many an hour in front of the TV watching anything from a show about a group of wild ER doctors just trying to make it from day to day without killing anyone to a show that followed the lives of four unique characters who travelled from planet to planet trying to defeat alien races and save Earth. That ‘me’ did not have social connections, I had friends, but they tended to be people with whom I shared a passion for that fiction world with. Back then, I did not like me. I was not a strong person and I had no self confidence. I got pushed around and walked all over. I was always the person for whom you could turn to for help and advice, but who never turned to anyone for help and advice of my own.
The current me has grown substantially since my senior year. I credit this growth mainly to my yearbook teacher my senior year, Molly Buckley, and the amazing group of friends that I formed that year. Ms. Buckley was one of the teachers that everyone wanted to have. She was loud and funny and made going to class seem like not so much of a bear. She did not care what others thought of her, and it showed. She is probably the most confident person that I have ever met. She taught me that it does not matter what others think of you and what they see in you. What matters is what you see in yourself. Her confidence was contagious and I soon found myself being more proud of myself than I ever had been. When our yearbooks were finally done and we all sat back and marveled at the creation we had produced I felt even better. I saw for the first time in my life just how much I was capable of doing, and that I was capable of doing it well.
My friends also helped to teach me that. I went through a transformation of sorts that summer, and walked away from a very rocky relationship with a very good friend. But I did not let it stop me; instead I used it to my advantage. I set out to show him that it was possible to be happy without him, and that I did not need to rely on him anymore. My friends were there for me every step of the way and instead of letting me walk away and not share my feelings with them like the old me would have done, they pushed and shoved and wouldn’t let go. Even people with whom I had never really talked to before became rocks to me and helped me to grow. The current me is still living in that life. The new me has a new found confidence, one that has only grown since I came to Sarg and made the friends that I have made, and kept the friends that I have kept. I am still shy and timid when it comes to some things, but I know for a fact that I hold my head a whole hell of a lot higher than I used too. I have overcome so many obstacles and have grown because of them. I recently lost my grandmother due to a serious of heart-attacks and strokes that spanned the time frame of six months. As hard as it was to lose her, and to watch as my family struggled to keep it together when the rock that held us up was gone, I learned probably the most important lesson of my life: live each day as though it is your last. I have learned to see the beauty in the little things, and when things bother me, I am now more likely to just walk away and give an issue up than to fight about it. I love more than I ever had, and I make sure that the people that I love know it. The current me has learned to never give up, ever. If my grandmother taught me anything over the 6 months that she was fighting for her life it was that you can never give up. She fought until the day she died to stay with us, and was as stubborn as a bull the entire time.
The future me, well I don’t know what exactly I want the future me to be like. I want to be strong and confident. I want to continue to work hard at everything I do and have the passion for the things that I have passion for now. I hope that the future me holds her head high and never lets anyone bring her down. In the future, I hope to have a good job, somewhere that I will be happy and will love what I do. I hope that in the future I get to continue to help people out, something that I have been passionate about for many years. I want my ideal self to love who I am, and to not be ashamed of the things that I have done and the things that I have been through in order to get to where I am. I want to have a family and friends that will love me and be there for me as they have been throughout the past 19 years of my life. In the future I want me to continue to, well, just be me.
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Massachusettes "What Is An American?" Posts
After reading the blogs of my group memebers I've come to realize that everyone has a different view of this country and what makes up it's people. I agree with Ebbony when she says that she thinks that our country has fallen off track. As great as I think this place is, and it's people, I think that our not only has our nation's economy and lifestyle faded, but so has our pride. I like what Ashley said about getting to choose the way we live, who we vote for, and what religion we want to be. I think that reading other people's views on what makes an American an American has helped me to think about what makes me feel special being an American.
What I Have Learned So Far...
So far this semester I have learned several different things about America and what truely makes us Americans. When I first read the assignment to write a letter to someone coming to this country for the first time telling them what an American was I was a little skeptical. The main reason for this being, that I wasn't entirely sure how I was going to be able to tell someone else what makes us special, but then I really sat down and thought about it. After I began brainstorming for the assignment I figured out that there are actually lots of things that make Americans unique, and lots of different ways in which to describe our culture to other people. Another thing that I have learned so far is what different people think about our culture and Americans as a people. Many people share the same views about this country and it's people, but not everyone has the same feelings. I've always known that not everyone in America feels as lucky and unique as I do, but now that I've gotten to read different people's opinions and descriptions of "What An American Is" it has made me think about some of the reasons as to why they feel differently.
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