Life's tough. Get a helmet.

So the job I have now is not the most glamorous occupation. And, really, most idiots could do it successfully. BUT, I have learned a lot working here. Every year, camp re-iterates something for me: a lot of people raise their kids to be large children, rather than self-sufficient adults. They seem to think that giving little Johnny everything he wants will make him a successful, likable human being. They are mistaken.

Sometimes in life, your kid will not get what s/he wants. Rather than calling someone and complaining, it would be better to teach them this lesson. It would be better to let them learn to deal with disappointment. To be grateful for the things that turn out the way they wanted. To be caught up in the wonder that happens when things turn out the opposite of how you wanted and it's better than you could have imagined.

Sometimes your kid will be separated from his/her friends and might even have to work with people they don't like. Rather than trying to ensure that they are only ever surrounded by like-minded individuals, teach them that people who we thought we would hate can be our best friends (yes, Bestie, I'm referring to you). Teach them that working with people who are different from us can give us better ideas. Teach them to embrace differences. Teach them to love everyone, not just their friends.

Sometimes things will happen that are scary. Rather than protecting your nearly-adult child from scary things, teach them how to deal with their fears. Teach them that once you stand up to your fears, they aren't as scary. Teach them that someone will always be there to reassure them when things are scary, but make sure that you teach them how to cultivate a support system so they can cope when you're gone.

Sometimes things do not go according to plan. Rather than trying to force things to change back to the plan, teach your kid to roll with the punches, to pick the ball up and run in the opposite direction, to bounce back and make a new plan. Teach them to be resourceful and make the best of the situation. Teach them that if they have to be there anyway, they might as well find SOMETHING good about it. They might as well learn something.

People, teach your kids that life is more than THIS SECOND. Give them some perspective that things that seem like monumental crises now are just tiny blips in the bigger picture of life. Please. PLEASE.

Adventures in Non-Revenue Travel

Most of you readers know that my darling Daddy is a pilot. Sometimes this is a great thing. Especially when we want to travel, because when he wears his uniform, we get to cut the security line. And TSA is nicer to us. Let me tell you, it brings me great joy to skip the security line. It is also great because it means we can fly for free. Free is a beautiful thing. However, there really is no such thing as a free lunch, because free flights mean standby. When the whole family flies standby, we need 3 seats, because Dad can fly in the jumpseat. You'd be surprised how difficult it is to get three seats sometimes.

This weekend, I'm planning to go to New City to find myself a place to live. My family, being my loving, over-protective, over-involved, opinated family has all decided that they would like to come with me to help me make that decision. We were supposed to take a redeye tonight, and three days ago, there were plenty of seats. This redeye wasn't exactly ideal (sleeping on a plane and then apartment hunting didn't sound like a blast, but it would work. And give me plenty of time to go to my Cylinder girls' gradations. Unfortunately, it's a holiday weekend. Things change quickly on a holiday weekend. 10 minutes before the ceremony was supposed to start, Brother called and said I needed to leave, because the flight we were supposed to take at 10 PM was now obscenely overbooked and we needed to leave immediately. I asked some friends to apologize and explain to my girls and raced out of the stadium (where I was stopped by no less than 3 security guards for trying to go out the "wrong" part of the stadium). We got to the airport and only Dad and I could get on the flight to stop number one. Mom and Brother are stranded at home. We have been trying to do internet backflips to get them registered on any and all flights that will get them to our desired destination so that we can find me a place to live. It's not going well. And Dad and I have 4 hours to kill in his least favorite and my second-least favorite airport in the country. Mom and Brother are most likely going to be on a flight that leaves at 1:30 in the morning. I'm glad that my family has such a good sense of humor. We have to laugh, becasue if we don't we'll cry.

One is one too many, one more is never enough

Boos:
-Realizing that I do things that I find maddening in other people.
-Trying to decide the best way to move. No choice is much simpler or more pleasant than any other. So not looking forward to the actual moving part of moving out. Not to mention the cost.
-Headaches.
-People who come in to work wanting money to buy food who make my entire office reek of cigarettes. If you'd save yourself the $60/carton, you could buy a lot of food. And the associated Dr. bills from the various health problems from smoking.
-Feeling guilty for judging ^^^^
-Making the same mistake over and over and over again. 
-Not knowing everything I want to know about SPSS.
-Not knowing what the future holds.

Whoooos
-My friends are almost all graduated now. I'm proud of us for finishing. And on time, to boot!
-Bestie coming home for a few days before she "[says] goodbye to everyone. Forever! :("
-Friending everyone in the program on Facebook and realizing that I will probably like them. Or at least I probably won't hate them.
-My Starbucks cup. I <3 it.
-Netflix. Even if it is the single greatest waste of time ever invented in the history of man.
-Hope.
-Dancing like a fool.
-Not having serious anxiety over not knowing what the future holds. 
-Clinique mascara.
-Kenny Chesney's new song You and Tequila.
-The fact that it's summer and that means lots of fresh fruit.

Making Friends

In a few short weeks, I will be leaving my hometown, the house I've lived in for the last 8 years, my family, and all of my friends and moving to the other side of the country. 

While this new place is beautiful (from what I hear) and everyone is nice (from what I hear), I'm nervous. I'm nervous about making friends. I'm nervous about starting what is presumably going to be the hardest thing I've done yet with no support system. I'm really nervous about making new friends. In fact, I would say that with the exception of 1-2 close friends, I've only ever "made" friends with multiple people at once two times in my life: when I joined Drama Club (and that, for the most part, was a group of "frenemies" rather than friends), and in the last year or so. And I would say that the friends I've made in the last year or so have mostly sought me out rather than the other way around--not that I don't love them or don't want to be friends with them or something, I just would say that objectively, they did the friendship initiating. I think I'm bad at making friends. I don't think that I'm a bad friend, although I have had my days, but the actual initiating and getting to know someone part? Not so good at it. It is also a large part of why I hate dating. I'm pretty good at being a girlfriend (at least, I think I am) and I'm a pretty good friend too, if I do say so myself. But the getting to know someone? I suck at that. I'm actually pretty shy. Especially when I'm in a new environment. So the thought of having to make an entirely new set of friends is...daunting. 


I wonder if they'll like me. I wonder if I'll be the youngest (again). I wonder if I'll like them. I wonder if we'll have things in common. I wonder if they'll be gossipy or cliquey or obnoxious or welcoming or kind or funny. I wonder if I'll spend all of my time alone or on skype with family and friends a million miles away, or if I'll have people to go to dinner with or watch Glee with. And my girls keep asking what will happen if I "meet someone." I told them I'd cross that bridge if I came to it and that they'll probably get married before I do. 


I've been facebook stalking, because well, I'm me. I like to know what I'm getting myself into. And from what I can tell, I think I'll like the people. And I figure they're probably just as nervous as I am. We're all new. We're all moving. So I'm going to do my best to be intentional. I'm going to work on making the first move, initiating friendships. Because I'm pretty sure that if I don't, the other person might be too nervous too, and then I could miss out on a really great friendship. And besides, I'm plenty used to rejection at this point in my life. I might as well take the chance. It's like President Roosevelt said:

"It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood, who strives valiantly; who errs and comes short again and again; because there is not effort without error and shortcomings; but who does actually strive to do the deed; who knows the great enthusiasm, the great devotion, who spends himself in a worthy cause, who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement and who at the worst, if he fails, at least he fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory nor defeat."

 

Or, like his wife says: "Do one thing every day that scares you." 

 

 

"Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that"

Yesterday, Osama Bin Laden, one of the worst enemies of America was killed in an attack on his compound in Pakistan. Many Americans spent the night cheering and celebrating. They were exhilarated by his death, and felt justice had finally been served for his orchestration of the 9/11 attacks. But I must pause. I don't feel the joy that my countrymen feel at his demise. It doesn't bring me happiness or a sense of vindication. Yes,  now he can no longer orchestrate massive terrorist attacks. Yes, he was a horrible man. Yes, it is his fault that many thousands of Americans and other civilians around the world have been horribly murdered. But does his death rebuild the towers? Does his death bring back the mothers and fathers and brothers and sisters and sons and daughters that have died at his command? Does his death erase that grief? Does his death undo the damage he caused? It doesn't.

And maybe as an American, I shouldn't care how his family and friends should feel, shouldn't concern myself with their grief. After all, he was a "Bad Guy." And we all know that nobody loves Bad Guys. I understand the necessity of his capture and/or death. We couldn't let him continue to live (somewhat) freely because it was a constant sign of victory for terrorists everywhere--American forces could not locate or capture our greatest enemy. But it brings me sadness. The necessity of his death doesn't make it any less saddening.

I mourn the loss of thousands of precious lives, but I will not rejoice in the death of one, not even an enemy. Returning hate for hate multiplies hate, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that" -Martin Luther King Jr.

Love is a four-letter word spelled T-I-M-E.

Once upon a time, there was a boy who lived in a remote inland village. One day, he handed his teacher a jar full of white sand, salt water, and seashells. Confused, the teacher asked the boy where he had gotten it, knowing that the nearest ocean was very far. He explained that he had walked many miles over several days to the coast to get it for her. The teacher was touched, but she told the boy he shouldn't have traveled so far just to get her a gift. He said, "But teacher, the journey is part of the gift."

Time is a scarce resource. It is constantly depleting, and we're not guaranteed anything more than this moment. That is why, even though people say there are five "love languages," I think there's really only one. The others are "words of affirmation," "physical touch," "gifts," and "acts of service." The thing about all of those others is that you need time for them to mean anything. You need to know someone to know what words to say that would make them feel affirmed. Getting to know someone takes time. You can't touch someone you're not spending time with. You can't buy someone something without taking time to think about what they like, what would make them happy, and then spending the time going to get it. And acts of service necessitate the time spent doing them. Time is the best way to show someone you love them because everyone has the same amount, so everyone realizes how precious each second is.

In my family, we make the time. We go to the game. We stay up late to talk, even knowing we have to get up early. We drive to the other side of town. Because the journey, the time, is part of the gift. The time shows we care.

Which is why I feel so offended, so affronted, so incensed when someone tells someone else that they "don't have time for them." It screams "you're not important." Because people find time for the things they think are important. They make it a priority to spend time with the things they value. The Bible says "where your treasure is, there your heart will be also." Don't get me wrong, I'm not correcting the Bible or anything, but I think even more than your treasure, your time is an indicator of where your heart is. Don't tell me you really love something that you spend no time doing. Don't tell me you love a person you never see, you never call, never text. And don't tell another person that you don't have time for them. Because at the end of the day, the homework, the job, the dishes, the trashy TV, the sleep, none of that matters if there isn't a person there.

So, I know this doesn't make a lot of sense. It's a little circular. But someone I love was told that a person they love doesn't have time for them. And it hit a nerve, because I know how much it hurts to be told that the person you love doesn't have time for you. It hurts really badly. It makes you feel small. It makes you feel insignificant and unimportant and kinda worthless.

So here is my vow. I'm never going to tell someone I don't have time for them. I vow to make the time. I vow to forgo the sleep or the trashy TV or the work or the homework. I vow to figure it out. Because people are important. And the best way to show them that is by giving them my time.

Here's to saying something.

Hello, dear readers. It's been a while since I've posted, but not for lack of trying. I've started a few posts that I've since discarded because I'm caught in the tension between not wanting to be all bright and shiny and not wanting to air my dirty laundry/every stupid thought/not the nicest things to ever enter my mind in a public forum.

I've made a decision about grad school--I'm getting my MA at a school that is 2,200 miles from home. I will be an RA on a super awesome project that I'm terribly excited about. The spot that I was up for at Geographically Desirable U ultimately went to a man who is graduating from this program who has been working on this terribly exciting project. I took that as a sign that this program develops the kinds of scientists that I want to become, so I'm headed there. As my friends have all told me, I'm going to work super hard and get at least 1 JPSP and then "programs will be throwing money" at me to come there. Plus, I have a dastardly plan to apply for the NSFGRFP next year and win it and then defer and have my own sweet funding which pretty much guarantees me a spot anywhere I wanna go because schools wouldn't have to pay for me. It's genius. The place I'm moving to is very... historical. And here's the kicker--I might end up living in a house with a real white picket fence. I know. I feel so traditional =)

In other news, I've been chewing on something for a while. You see, readers, I'm not really one to hold a grudge. I know what you're going to say, best friend, and you're wrong. In most cases, most of the time, I don't hold grudges. I'm notoriously bad at the silent treatment. I cannot tell you how many times as a child that I promised myself I would NEVER speak to my parents again, only to forget my vows within the hour and return to my previously amicable self. I am still friendly with all most of my exes. I think it's because I'm socially lazy. Making friends is difficult. Making new friends while simultaneously maintaining your vitriol against old friends is especially difficult. Let's face it, maintaining vitriol against anyone is especially difficult. Being upset takes a lot of energy. Wanting to share something funny or interesting or exciting or sad or lame with someone who has been your go-to person for days or months or years and then remembering that you can't is... draining. When I was fighting with best friend last year, there were so many times when I picked up the phone to call or text her something meaningless only to remember that I couldn't. Because we were mad. And being mad precluded the 4 1/2 years of good friendship that we had. So I would tell other people about my best friend... who I wasn't speaking to. She did the same thing. It was absurd. When we finally made up, we spent about 6 weeks saying "I'm so glad we're not fighting anymore." It was such a relief. It was a weight lifted. It was like I could breathe again.

I recently read this article about how our generation has taken the stance that "if you can scream something without saying anything, the most disrespectful thing you can do is to not say anything. By saying nothing, we deprive you of the most basic thing we’ve come to hold dear: information." This is why I'm always astounded when someone I know can and does hold a grudge. For months. And I have to say, this silent treatment thing, it kills me. I can deal with screaming. I can handle cursing and crazy gestures. I can even handle things being thrown at me. But silence, silence screams something far worse than hatred. At least if someone is fighting, it means they care enough TO fight.