In Someone's Eyes...

Perfection is a ridiculous thing. It has no absolutes. It varies from person to person, place to place, situation to situation, etc. Nothing is ever perfect, no one is ever perfect. And sometimes I just feel like I can never be perfect or good enough to please the right people. It's a little infuriating, actually.

 At school, I'm not smart enough. I'm surrounded by kids who took as many AP classes as was humanly possible, or did IB. I didn't even know what IB was until I got to college! I'm pretty sure it isn't as popular in Missouri as it is in Colorado, or at least not in St. Louis. Who knows. Anyways. I'm the homeschooled girl who was the "guinea pig" of the family. I basically taught myself, which means that certain subjects went great, like math or science (though I still hate them :P) and other classes, like history, were awful. I don't remember anything historically based. I mean if someone handed you a boringly written history textbook and said "read it," would you learn much? Maybe so, but I definitely didn't! So at DU, I feel pretty dumb the vast majority of the time. Because of my schooling, which wasn't bad, it just wasn't as well-rounded as it could have been, there's a lot I don't know, socially, historically, politically, etc. I'm smart when it comes to logic or common-sense, just not books or fact-based knowledge. So at school, I always feel majorly inferior. And people assume that since I'm "just an art major" I don't know anything, like I picked art because I sucked at everything else or wasn't smart enough to do anything else. Being blonde doesn't help my case. I was talking with someone once and mentioned that I'd graduated high school with a 3.9 GPA, he was literally shocked. I got through my first year of college with only one B (and the rest some form of A) in all three quarters at DU, but I'm still not smart enough at college, I still don't know enough, I'm not good enough.

And then at home, I'm too smart. I finally got my grades last night. I was expecting a B in Russian. I honestly have no clue how on earth I have an A in that class. I got B's on nearly every test! I must have passed the final exam with an A and gotten extra points for always turning in homework, who knows? So anyways, I was sitting in the living room when I checked the grades for final quarter and mom, dad, and Megan were around. So I told them what I'd gotten in my classes, expressing genuine surprise at my final grade in Russian. I would have been happy with a B, Russian is hard, and that's what I was expecting all quarter. Actually I was fearing I'd get a C in the class, due to my test scores. Anyways. There wasn't really much happiness for my good grades. Instead the response, especially from Megan, was a kinda snotty "of course you got good grades. How could you not get good grades?" And on and on, it was actually embarrassing (one of my friends was over). Like I was too smart. Like of course I did well, like it was a bad thing that I got good grades. By the end I was hardcore wishing I'd gotten worse grades in my first year of college.

So at DU, I'm too dumb. At home, I'm too smart. There doesn't seem to be a balance. I'm never perfect enough. Perfection is ridiculous, because it is impossible. You will always fall short in someone's eyes, or your own. I think it is good to recognize, realize, and accept this fact. Nothing and no one is perfect. Ever. Fact of life. But way too often people search for and strive for perfection. There's nothing wrong with striving for perfection in the sense that you are simply being and doing the best that you are capable of. The problem arises when you can't accept that perfection is impossible. When all your life is focused on attempting to achieve something that can never be accomplished.

The world puts too much focus on being perfect. It would be better to focus on being the best you can be. Working hard to accomplish reasonable goals. But enjoying and living and loving life along the way. The world's a messed up place, but it's still wonderful and beautiful. Joy and love and peace can be found if you search for them. And you don't have to search very far. It's all around us. The world isn't perfect, people aren't perfect, things aren't perfect. But there's still good. You just have to appreciate the good while understanding and accepting that life will never be perfect and there will always be bad things. Look around and appreciate the wonders of the world. Find beauties in the imperfections, beauty in the decay. It's there, if you can see it. Look closer, open your eyes and see the world. 

Slightly Crispy and a Little Pink

That's what I looked like after yesterday. 10 hours in the sun will do that to ya, even with (probably less than adequate) sunscreen. Maybe I'll put a little more on next time...

So St. Louis kinda has a big problem this summer. Cicadas. Gross, big insects with no purpose other than making noise, dying all over the pool deck, crawling around, flying at your face, being disgusting, and scaring the living sh*t out of you. Problematic, my friends. Highly problematic.

And they're everywhere. Almost literally. The pool has definitely seen it pretty badly. They litter the pool deck, line the edges of the zero-entry pool, and float around in the water. They fly around and frequently land on unsuspecting victims. Yes, victims. Walking around, one can avoid the dead ones with relative ease. But when sitting on stand, one is imprisoned. I experienced this yesterday. After about 7 hours of testing for lifeguard re-certification, I worked for about 3 hours for someone who wanted to leave early because he was going out of town. While sitting on stand at rec 1...the cicadas came. Apparently I didn't get it too badly, but one cicada counts as utter misery in my book. The wind often blows towards rec 1, and the cicadas come with it. One flew towards me, I quickly and rather involuntarily stood up and it landed in the seat behind me. I then plucked up my courage and didn't scream (though I assure you, I wanted to) and after a few attempts, knocked it off the seat with my guard tube and prayed it fell to its death in the waters below. I then sat back down, only to have one LAND ON MY ARM a few seconds later. Again involuntarily, I let out a small shriek and Mary (who was taking chemicals behind me) got it off. At this point, Luis, who was on rec 2, was dying of laughter. Knowing I looked hilarious and definitely ridiculous, I laughed too. Then one flew up into the umbrella above me and just sat there. I was in hell. Still trying to keep my eyes on the pool below and the patrons swimming there, I kept glancing up to see if it was still in the umbrella. Part of me wanted it to stay there, simply because I was so terrified it would fall onto me, the other part wanted it to just disappear. Becoming progressively more afraid, I tried to calm down, not think about how awful it would be if the large insect was ON ME and breathe. When the wind finally flew hard enough to get it off, I twisted and moved a bunch to keep it from touching me. I'm pretty sure Luis had the best time ever watching my antics. It'll get funnier as the summer goes on, since I'm deathly afraid of any sort of bug or insect or crawly thing. Butterflies are the only ones I can deal with because they're really pretty and all. I'm 95% sure this summer will result in 1. a panic attack, or 2. me getting over my near-disabling fear of bugs (and when I say bugs, I'm counting spiders and all those things that aren't technically bugs, they still count). We shall see what this summer holds...maybe I'll just never sit on rec 1, I'll just stand for easier escape from my newest terror. 

While sitting on stand (the longest 15 minutes of my life thus far) I was thinking about how much I passionately HATE cicadas. There is nothing good about them, they simply should not exist. I tried to think of at least one positive thing. Their wings are pretty cool looking. And when they fly in front of the pink, orange, and purplish hues of the setting sun, it shines, sparkles, and reflects through their iridescent wings. That's the only mildly positive aspect. Needless to say, this does not make up for the innumerable negative and awful parts of the bug, so they should still all just die and then disappear so I don't have to clean them up. And then they should never come back. And then I'll go see a therapist :P

When I first started this blog I had an assignment for one of my classes. That assignment was to document three observations a day. It was a great assignment. It forced me to look more often, and really see the world. I'm going to start doing that again. Not necessarily every day, or three things, but just more often. So one thing I saw yesterday was the cicada wings. And then there are these fountains. Sometimes they mess up and start spurting and spraying the water up super high. The water splashes up in beads of water. It was right in front of the setting sun, so the burnt oranges and pale lavender shades of sunset were reflected in the tiny balls of water. Just lovely. 

Being back at the pool today was so great. It felt like home. As I sat on stand, watching kids swim, blowing the whistle, bellowing "DONT' RUN!" at small (and big) children, it felt natural. Sitting in the guardroom, chilling with my pool family, smelling the sunscreen and hearing the pool-sounds, was natural. It's kinda weird because I have so many homes now. Denver is home, DU is home, Passage is home, St. Louis is home, my house is home, my St. Louis friends are home, the pool is home. But so far it isn't really confusing. I just feel like I belong in a lot of different places. Right now it works, I guess one day I'll have to pick a permanent home, but I'm not worrying about that yet. I'm just gonna live in the here and now. The past, the future, spending time worrying about them isn't going to get me anywhere. But today, right now, that's what I'll think about. That's what I'll live. Smiling and loving and hugging and being joyful today, here, now. That's the important thing.

Snapping into Place

So I was just sitting on my bed (I now have two, since my roommate moved out, quite exciting) scrolling through Tumblr (if you want to follow me, my Tubmlr page is: http://theworldandbeautyandstuffs.tumblr.com/ and it's pretty sweet). And I randomly started singing. Nothing in particular, not even a real song. I'm not even sure why I was singing the words I was singing. Maybe a mashup of a bunch of songs, who knows? So I was randomly singing, and then wondering why I was singing in the first place. I don't really do that a lot. I mean I sing songs that I know that are stuck in my head, and I love rolling the windows down, blasting a car, and singing to a favorite CD. But then I remembered that I used to sing all the time. It was like something had just snapped into place. Like something or someone I used to be was finally back. 

Maybe it has taken me this long to be totally myself again, or even know who that is. Maybe not, maybe i was just randomly singing and it is nothing. But in the past few days I've felt pretty free. I've been super stressed with school recently, finals and all. Today I finished my last paper, and I only have two tests left for next Tuesday. The weather is spectacular and I've gotten so much closer to people recently. This past month people that I was just friends with have become true friends, people I consider close friends. That is so special and wonderful. Knowing that I have people who are there for me and love me for who I am, marvelous. 

As I've said before, I can be a super self-conscious, insecure individual. And in the past few years I haven't had many friends. I've lost a lot of friends. I've had a lot of people who I just thought were my friends. That does nothing for someone's already-low self-esteem. That has been a struggle in this first year of college. Sometimes it felt like I only had one or two friends, and in the grand scheme of things that isn't very many. If I was already having a bad day then thoughts like that had a snowball effect. I would end up wondering what was wrong with me, why no one liked me, why so many people have stopped caring about me, and what I needed to do to change so I became more personable and likeable. Not the happiest of times or thoughts. And I do wonder those things from time to time. When I look at my friends of the past, many of them are no longer friends. Most of them I can't pinpoint a reason for our falling out of friendship, they just left, decided I wasn't cool anymore, or started spending all their time with a significant other and no longer wanted or needed my friendship. 

But I'm choosing not to dwell on those things. Those are friendships of the past. Instead of being bitter, it's better to move on. I'll remember the times I had and memories I shared with those people with smiles. They were good times, even if they are over now, they were still good. And now I have people here. I have wonderful, loving, fun, beautiful friends. And they're truly my friends. They love me for me. Sometimes I worry or wonder how long they will be around. I fear to put too much into the friendship because if it ends, it hurts all the more. But I think it's better just to live in the here and now. At this point in time, we are dear friends, and so I won't worry about tomorrow, next week, or year. This is the time to be, this is the time to live, and this is the time to sing.

Greens and Greys and Pancakes

The clouds outside of Driscoll are incredible. Framing the law school clock tower, they're dark and powerful. Puffed-up and huge, their layers of different shades of grey fill the sky. A storm is brewing, and these clouds tell it. It looks like a big storm, mighty and powerful. Maybe some thunder and lightning. But it isn't a scary storm. Even though it's big and strong, it's one of those almost peaceful ones. You know that feeling, when you're sitting inside during a huge storm? There's thunder and lightning, the rain pounding against the windows and roof. It's surrounding you, enveloping you in its power. But it's also comforting. You know you are safe inside, and you can sense how great nature is. You know it could potentially be dangerous, but right now it isn't. And it is peaceful in its disquiet and strength.

And you know, it kinda reminds me of God. A lot of the time I get caught in a trap of not revering God enough. I write and think often about how great and good, loving and merciful, kind and compassionate He is. I talk about how wonderful it is to hold His hand, or sit in His lap and be comforted. I consider Him to be my best friend, my father, my confidant, my comforter. He's kind and loving, caring and good. But He's not all fluffy and soft. He's also God. He's King. He's Lord. He's great, mighty, jealous, powerful, angry, just, and strong. Too often I focus only on the personal part of God, and I don't show Him the honor and glory and respect He not only deserves, but requires.

I've been reading in Isaiah recently. Actually, I've been reading it for awhile, because it is much harder to get through than the gospels. The gospels are so full of stories and miracles and then of course Jesus' sacrifice. Isaiah has a lot more suffering and it's quite as interesting to read (initially at least). But I figured I should get through it because the entire Bible is important, not just the parts that specifically interest me at this point in time.

Many of the verses talk about destruction. God says how He can build, and He can destroy. He can create, and He can end. He talks about how He is God and He has the right to do these things. Reading it I was confused, questioning. I don't believe that God orchestrates bad things. I believe that He allows them at times, because if He didn't then life would just be one great puppet show, but I don't believe that He is the evil puppeteer master who burns down sets and strangles puppet dolls in their strings. So I couldn't understand these verses.

But then, I think I got it. Or this is my understanding at least. God isn't saying "I will destroy and kill everything." He's saying "I can destroy, I have the power, because I am God." It's not that God wants suffering or bad things. He's reminding us that as God, He can do whatever. Who am I to think I have rights? Who am I to scream and yell at God and tell Him He can't do something? Who am I to think I am so great I get to have a say in any matter? God is GOD. He created this world. He has the power, He decides. Those verses reminded me that the God who is my father and best friend and comforter is also the master of the universe, creator of the world. He does not only ask for glory and praise, He demands it, because He is all-powerful, all-mighty, but also all-good. He can do whatever He pleases, it doesn't mean He will, the point is simply that He can.

Lucidly Free in a Bit of Chlorine

I find swimming to be one of the most wonderful activities in which I can partake. I know for some running is their release, but I've never fallen in love with running the way I have with swimming. It's so freeing and light, gliding through the cool water. It softly embraces you, surrounding you in peace and quiet. Underwater is still. Light reflects through its blue waves, dancing patterns on the floor. They're ever-changing, moving with the pace of the water. As you speed up, they dance all the more furiously.

Peace is not only found in the reflections playing beneath you. The repetition of laps, back and forth, over and over, one side to the other, is methodical and almost meditative. Right arm over, left arm over, right arm over, breath, left arm, right arm, left arm, breath, right, left, right, breath. Over, and over, and over. It isn't something you have to think about, your arms just move, your head turning to gulp in a bit of air before it's back in the water. In the moments your head comes up, you are surrounded by sudden sounds. The music playing, chatter of patrons or lifeguards, whatever other sounds are around, and then it's back into the water. The sounds are muted, peace and tranquility again.

The water is so freeing, so forgiving, so non-judgmental. You feel powerful as your arms pull through the water, legs kicking to propel you forward. And the water doesn't care. It doesn't care how you look, sound, speak. It doesn't care what you know or don't know. Your interests and passions and likes and dislikes are unimportant to the cool blue enveloping you. Goggles obscure your face, no one can see the impurities or imperfections. The water doesn't care who you are or where you've been. Through the water everything is a distortion, no one can see the scars or your imperfect body. And the water, the water doesn't care. You're free. Your thoughts can roam with no inhibitions. Worries about what people think of you can be lost for at least a few moments, because no one can see you clearly, and the water won't judge.

Everything is quiet and still. It's almost meditative. You settle into your stroke, it begins to feel like second nature. You could go on forever, swimming peacefully, back and forth, in the cool, dancing, loving water. Back and forth, back and forth, right, left, right, breath.

Life's Just a Roller Coaster Ride

I have literally been a roller coaster the past few weeks. It's ridiculous. One day I'm flying high, in a fabulous mood, looking forward to summer, and optimistic about completing my homework...the next day I'm on the verge of tears at every turn, dreading the remaining three weeks of school, overwhelmed with mountains of homework, and an absolute basket case. Definitely not okay.

Such is the result of the last few weeks of school, especially in the quarter system. With our school year we pretty much have three sets of finals, and nearly six sets of "midterms." In all my classes I have three big tests, upon which nearly the entire grade rides. No pressure or anything! So after getting through the first couple of weeks you have midterms. Stress there. Then a week later tons of papers are due, then you're all of the sudden preparing for the second set of midterms. More big papers to turn in, oral exams in language classes to study for, then suddenly everything is due and it's finals time. No rest for the weary, my friends.

Ow. I just burnt my tongue on scalding raspberry tea. And back to my musings...

So yeah. That's been the quarter so far. Summer is so close, and yet three weeks feels like an eternity! Currently I'm feeling moderately optimistic. The weather was FABULOUS today. Now it isn't, as tomorrow is supposed to drop back down to a high of 45 with clouds and rain and grossness. But today was a perfect 70-80 degrees, sunny, and mildly breezy. Perfect skirt weather.

I'm feeling a bit overwhelmed with my writing class paper, however. It's a qualitative study on something. I chose longboarding on DU's campus. Nothing too complicated, but the paper involves tons of observations and interpretations of the observations. Plus it is around 8-10 pages long. After looking extensively through the assignment sheet and talking with the teacher, I feel like it might be manageable though. I'll just have to take it one chunk at a time.

That class, my writ one, has been super interesting. I mean it's hard, and I don't like writing for teachers or assignments, but I do love the teacher. We read very interesting material as well. We're currently reading a book called The Comfort of Thing. Sounds kinda materialistic, huh? It would seem that way, but it isn't really. I mean it does delve into the things that people own, but not so much what they own, as how they own it. That doesn't really make sense, does it? I just mean it's more about the way in which they own things, what is valued, what is not appreciated, what is so valued it is practically revered. What things people choose to collect or keep or remember, and what things are of no importance to them. And it talks about how the things define people, and how the people define the things. It's really a very interesting study that the authors did. They just picked one street and spent around a year (I think) visiting people, getting to know them, their quirks, and their things. It's fun, too, because it sparks interesting discussions in class and reminds me of forgotten memories. One story was about a woman who would always buy her kids Happy Meals at McDonald's. The goal was to collect all the toys from each collection. She wanted to make up for her parent's bad parenting by being a fun, good, loving mom to her kids.

It made me think of when I was little and we'd go to McDonald's. With a family of 8, going out to eat anywhere, whether fast-food or more fancy, was a rare and special occurrence...Happy Meals were even more of a rarity. I don't recall exactly how many times my parents actually bought us Happy Meals, but I'm sure I could count it on one hand. It's not like my parents were mean and deprived us of toys or something, but Happy Meals weren't cheap when you added them up for five or six kids, and it was simply better to save the money to buy one bigger, nicer toy. We understood that. And it made the times when we did get to go out to eat, or get a toy at McDonald's, even more special. More often our grandparents would take us to McDonald's, my grandpa always seems to love going there (though now I would really rather not). And sometimes they would get us Happy Meals. I just remember how exciting it was to get that toy. The food was usually quickly forgotten in the excitement of digging through the cardboard boxes, feeling the plastic wrapping, and pulling out the toy. After a few moments of struggle with the packaging, a new friend would emerge. I remember a Minnie/Mickey Mouse series that we all played with for months, or longer. The Madame Alexander series that appeared at McDonalds a few times was especially enjoyable. The dolls were just so cute! My siblings and I would spend hours playing with our new toys. We were always very imaginative kids. Towns and cities emerged in my sister and I's huge attic room. It wasn't just playing, we created whole worlds. Everyone had personalities and background stories. So much fun.

It's good to reminisce. I feel like I do that a lot now that I'm away from home. Someone will be telling a story or I'll see or read something and remember something I used to do back at home when I was a kid. It's suddenly so fun to think and talk and write about old family traditions or memories. Lots of people say when they go to college they realize how much they love and miss their family. I already knew I loved my family dearly when I left, but I was so ready to leave I barely missed them the first quarter away. Now I realize just how right everyone was! You really do appreciate things more when they aren't as accessible, just like our appreciation and love for the rare treat of a McDonald's toy. 

Blood and Tears

I always think I already know, already understand, have heard before what He went through. Growing up in a Christian home, celebrating Easter every year, and annually watching the clay-mation Jesus story, I sometimes (oftentimes) get caught in the trap of feeling like I've "heard it all before." Yes, I've heard it. Yes, I've seen it. But never like this. 

I've always avoided the pain, the suffering, the blood and guts. I don't like blood and violence. Movies like Fight Club and Boondock Saints are great. I love them. But when the violence is really realistic, or not funny, or depicts true suffering...I turn away. I don't want to think about it, acknowledge it, or let it into my head. I know the world isn't perfect. I know utter brutality, cruelty, violence, pain, and suffering go on...but I don't want to see them. 

Whenever people talk about the movie Passion of the Christ, I say I'm never going to watch it. I say I know what Jesus went through, I don't want to see it. I say the movie is too violent, I can't handle that much blood. I say I don't need to see it. I already know, I already understand. 

I still don't plan on watching the Passion. I don't think I could deal with it. Or maybe I just don't want to. I don't know. Maybe I'll watch it someday, just not yet. 

But tonight, tonight was incredible. 

I went to a production of The Thorn (http://thethorn.net/). It's a live play/show depicting a brief synopsis of the Bible/creation story, Jesus' life, and most importantly, His death and resurrection. The acting, choreography, dancing, music, singing, lighting, etc, was incredible. In and of itself, the production was fabulous. But the story far exceeded the play in greatness. 

Everyone who has seen The Thorn before says they cry. 

I cried. I sobbed. Tears filled my eyes, flowed down my cheeks as I blinked. Little rivers of salty water splashing into my lacy skirt and spotting my blue shirt. 

Thirty-nine. Thirty-nine times they whipped Jesus. Thirty-nine times with the cat-o-nine whip. Nine strands of leather woven with broken chunks of pottery, bones, and hooks to tear and rip. Thirty-nine, an odd number. Thirty-nine because forty was considered execution, the torture of the cat-o-nine was so awful and detrimental. They wanted Jesus still alive, but just barely, so they could execute Him on the cross. 

The narrator, "Doubting" Thomas, said that when Jesus was through with the whipping, He could not be recognized. His skin was so destroyed, it hung from His bones, He was covered in blood. I almost can't even type this, because just thinking about it, imagining the pain He went through...I want to cry all over again. I want to pretend He didn't have to suffer that much. 

In the play, as Jesus is being whipped, He falls to the ground. Satan approaches Jesus and tempts Him yet again to give up. Tells Jesus He has suffered enough. Reminds Him that He can do anything. Tells Him to just summon up His league of angels and stop going through with His sacrifice. Jesus drags Himself to His feet, grabs back on to the post, and continues to be flogged. Tears cried rivers down my cheeks. 

Then the play showed Jesus carrying His cross. Stumbling, faltering, dragging it along. Kicked, mocked, scorned all the while. And while He made that slow, painful journey to His place of execution, all you could hear was, "Just to be with you, I'd do anything/There's no price I would not pay/Just to be with you, I'd give anything/I would give my life away," being sung. That song, those lyrics, over and over again. The song was so wonderful I want to just post all the lyrics right here:

I've heard it said that a man would climb a mountain
Just to be with the one he loves
How many times has he broken that promise
It has never been done.
I've never climbed the highest mountain
But I walked the hill of calvary

Chorus:
Just to be with you, I'd do anything
There's no price I would not pay
Just to be with you, I'd give anything
I would give my life away.

I've heard it said that a man would swim the ocean
Just to be with the one he loves
How may times has he broken that promise
It can never be done
I've never swam the deepest ocean
But I walked upon the raging sea

Repeat chorus

(Bridge)
I know that you don't understand
the fullness of My love
How I died upon the cross for your sins
And I know that you don't realize
how much that I gave you
But I promise, I would do it all again.

Just to be with you, I've done everything
There's no price I did not pay
Just to be with you, I gave everything
Yes, I gave my life away. (Love Song by Third Day)


So all you see is Jesus bleeding, suffering, dying. And all you hear is, "Just to be with you, I would do anything. There's no price I would not pay. Just to be with you, I would give anything. I would give my life away. Just to be with you, I've done everything. There's no price I did not pay. Just to be with you, I gave everything. Yes, I gave my life away." 

I'm crying right now.

There's nothing, nothing more beautiful than this. Nothing more sad, nothing more joyful. Nothing more precious. Just to be with me, Jesus went through all of that. Just to be with me. Just to be with you. 

He. Gave. Everything. He gave His life away. For me, for you. He would, did, and does everything. And He'd do it all again.