So, I got on the internet to look up some definitions of mathematical terms so I could continue with my math homework. (My algebra is incredibly weak and it's coming back to haunt me.) Of course, the internet is a snare and one thing led to another and now I am blogging rather than puzzling out number 57 in my homework.
I don't know what it is, but the tv and the computer just suck me into their vast voids of thoughtlessness. I'll be on my way to the kitchen or the piano, just passing through the living room, and the TV will hypnotize me, completely erasing all thoughts of whatever mission I was on. I immediately shift into zombie-mode and sink onto the couch to view whatever mind-numbing show my little sister happens to be watching.
The computer doesn't quite invoke zombie-mode, but I am definitely addicted to it. Time ceases to exist and I can lose hours to idle web-surfing. This state of stupor takes over and then something triggers an abrupt return to reality. The next words out of my mouth are typically, "Crud..."
The truth is, I really don't have the time to waste. I have a nice little daily-planner with a list of tasks I need to accomplish each day, things I should probably go ahead and begin now rather than later, and things I just really want to do. While I enjoy the entertainment these outlets of media provide, there are much more rewarding ways to entertain myself (for instance, writing, or playing the piano, or reading). And so, I always feel really lame when I realize how much time I've wasted on the computer or watching a children's show that doesn't really interest me.
Blogging is an exception. This is incredibly productive and beneficial, of course. Granted, math homework is a higher priority, so...I have to conclude this entry here.
>'o'<
(Look, it's a kitty cat!!!)
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
The Hurrier I Go...
So, yesterday was the first day of school, and I did not post anything about it. Oops! I meant to. (I'm already not getting everything I want to get done finished. *sigh*)
It feels like we never left; like summer was a dream; like we'll be here forever. It feels like free time is a myth and stress follows me like a shadow. But I can't get stressed out so quickly, so easily! How pathetic is that?
I am becoming suspicious of myself. I think I might be...a drama queen...(Egad!) I think I am so in the habit of worrying and stressing that, when life doesn't do a good enough job of providing me with problems, I make some up.
I also think I procrastinate on purpose subconsciously. I am always late to everything. I think some part of me senses when I'm close to meeting a deadline or getting to school early, and I slow down every action by just a fraction, but it adds up enough to make me late.
But I'd really rather not think these things of myself. It makes me seem crazy, and we all know how far that is from the truth.
So, I'm really proud of myself: I exercised today!!! Now, my idea of exercise is inside, in the nice controlled air conditioning, with a big glass of water, a high-powered fan directed at my face, a diverting tv show, and my mom's stationary bike. I cannot understand why people like my dad and some of my friends would elect to jog outside, under the blazing Floridian sun, in the heat, on the hard concrete, in front of people. I have no problem sitting outside, or maybe riding a real bike, or swimming...but jogging? Running? Impacting the asphalt time and time again in an unbroken rhythm, jarring your poor ankles and knees, sweat streaking into your squinting eyes that are now blinded by both the sun and the sting of salt? That's just not my idea of fun.
My idea of fun is playing the piano! YAY! I had my first piano lesson of the season today, and surprised my teacher by having actually progressed over the summer. ("Tada! I can play the songs you mentioned last spring...") But I have to, have to, have to make this year worth her time and worth mine, worth the money my parents spend on lessons, worth the previous years that all led up to this.
When I go away to college, I may or may not pursue the piano. I would love to progress always, but you have to make priorities, and considering all the money that will be pouring into my higher education, it will probably take precedence over the fun things. Besides this, my teacher was supposed to be retiring this year. She is making an exception and teaching me for one more year because I am a senior; this is my last year. She saw me through all the way from the very first lesson, and she's going to be the one to send me off into the world of college. I owe it to her to give it my all this year.
That said...I need to go. If I am going to have time to practice tomorrow, I need to get some more homework done tonight. ;)
It feels like we never left; like summer was a dream; like we'll be here forever. It feels like free time is a myth and stress follows me like a shadow. But I can't get stressed out so quickly, so easily! How pathetic is that?
I am becoming suspicious of myself. I think I might be...a drama queen...(Egad!) I think I am so in the habit of worrying and stressing that, when life doesn't do a good enough job of providing me with problems, I make some up.
I also think I procrastinate on purpose subconsciously. I am always late to everything. I think some part of me senses when I'm close to meeting a deadline or getting to school early, and I slow down every action by just a fraction, but it adds up enough to make me late.
But I'd really rather not think these things of myself. It makes me seem crazy, and we all know how far that is from the truth.
So, I'm really proud of myself: I exercised today!!! Now, my idea of exercise is inside, in the nice controlled air conditioning, with a big glass of water, a high-powered fan directed at my face, a diverting tv show, and my mom's stationary bike. I cannot understand why people like my dad and some of my friends would elect to jog outside, under the blazing Floridian sun, in the heat, on the hard concrete, in front of people. I have no problem sitting outside, or maybe riding a real bike, or swimming...but jogging? Running? Impacting the asphalt time and time again in an unbroken rhythm, jarring your poor ankles and knees, sweat streaking into your squinting eyes that are now blinded by both the sun and the sting of salt? That's just not my idea of fun.
My idea of fun is playing the piano! YAY! I had my first piano lesson of the season today, and surprised my teacher by having actually progressed over the summer. ("Tada! I can play the songs you mentioned last spring...") But I have to, have to, have to make this year worth her time and worth mine, worth the money my parents spend on lessons, worth the previous years that all led up to this.
When I go away to college, I may or may not pursue the piano. I would love to progress always, but you have to make priorities, and considering all the money that will be pouring into my higher education, it will probably take precedence over the fun things. Besides this, my teacher was supposed to be retiring this year. She is making an exception and teaching me for one more year because I am a senior; this is my last year. She saw me through all the way from the very first lesson, and she's going to be the one to send me off into the world of college. I owe it to her to give it my all this year.
That said...I need to go. If I am going to have time to practice tomorrow, I need to get some more homework done tonight. ;)
Saturday, August 22, 2009
Firsts and Lasts
Last: My last day of work was on Thursday. It was probably the best day I've had at work, and one of the longest. But...it is over now! I am now retired, and fairly well-off financially. Let's just keep our fingers crossed that I continue picking up babysitting jobs; otherwise, my savings will diminish significantly this year.
First: It isn't a total first, but it does feel like it. My dad gave me a compliment today. He went out of his way to seek me out and made a point of telling me that he thought I was a pretty good pianist. Now, this is huge for my dad. Typically, I'll accept things like, "That piece seems kind of hard" as a compliment; I interpret that to mean I'm fairly advanced. No, this time, he even said, "I just wanted to compliment you." He told me I was good at chipping away for a long time at things that were really important to me, when it is easier for him to look at the big picture (concert pianist vs. daughter who takes lessons; no comparison). But I think what he meant to say was that he is proud of me for sticking with it so long and coming this far.
I gave him a really big hug and a really big thank you. This is a sort of sore spot for me. Since I was young, I would listen to my daddy play the piano and I wanted to be able to do that. (I still can't; he plays by ear. But that's not the point.) And when I started to take lessons, when I began plugging away, I guess I expected him to be proud. I think he was; I think he's always been proud of me. But it is my daddy's habit to offer constructive criticism (which I have never been able to take well) and not praise. I wanted to hear how good I sounded. I wanted to be told that I had potential, and I wanted someone to recognize how much work I put into it and how much progress I made.
I have been taking lessons now for seven years (wow...it doesn't feel like it's been that long). I stuck with it because I love it. My piano teacher told me that I picked it up pretty quick and was improving rapidly. My mom handed out compliments like peppermints. My grandparents told me to stick with it, to keep practicing. And by comparison, my dad's silence felt like disapproval.
So I learned to give myself pats on the back as I went. I was proud of me. I learned to look at where I've been, where I've come from, and find satisfaction in the fruit of my labor. I learned to look ahead at where I could be one day; to dream and hope and aim for new heights; to believe that it is possible to go anywhere. This gave the present meaning; it gave the song I was currently plodding away at a purpose.
Today, I stood on an outcropping and looked down to the valley. I saw how far I had come. Then I lifted my eyes to the hazy mountain top, snowy and majestic, ethereal and distant. I saw where I could be. Then I turned my focus back to where I am now, on the rock face in front of me and the solid ground beneath my feet, and carefully took my next step.
And I take it one day at a time.
A Last First: Monday will be the last time I experience the dreaded, long-anticipated, first day of school. I finished all my summer work earlier this afternoon. (I am such a bad procrastinator). I am not looking forward to Monday. At the same time, I want to launch myself into the new year, energetic and enthusiastic, and blaze through it with flying colors! So...we'll see. ;)
First: It isn't a total first, but it does feel like it. My dad gave me a compliment today. He went out of his way to seek me out and made a point of telling me that he thought I was a pretty good pianist. Now, this is huge for my dad. Typically, I'll accept things like, "That piece seems kind of hard" as a compliment; I interpret that to mean I'm fairly advanced. No, this time, he even said, "I just wanted to compliment you." He told me I was good at chipping away for a long time at things that were really important to me, when it is easier for him to look at the big picture (concert pianist vs. daughter who takes lessons; no comparison). But I think what he meant to say was that he is proud of me for sticking with it so long and coming this far.
I gave him a really big hug and a really big thank you. This is a sort of sore spot for me. Since I was young, I would listen to my daddy play the piano and I wanted to be able to do that. (I still can't; he plays by ear. But that's not the point.) And when I started to take lessons, when I began plugging away, I guess I expected him to be proud. I think he was; I think he's always been proud of me. But it is my daddy's habit to offer constructive criticism (which I have never been able to take well) and not praise. I wanted to hear how good I sounded. I wanted to be told that I had potential, and I wanted someone to recognize how much work I put into it and how much progress I made.
I have been taking lessons now for seven years (wow...it doesn't feel like it's been that long). I stuck with it because I love it. My piano teacher told me that I picked it up pretty quick and was improving rapidly. My mom handed out compliments like peppermints. My grandparents told me to stick with it, to keep practicing. And by comparison, my dad's silence felt like disapproval.
So I learned to give myself pats on the back as I went. I was proud of me. I learned to look at where I've been, where I've come from, and find satisfaction in the fruit of my labor. I learned to look ahead at where I could be one day; to dream and hope and aim for new heights; to believe that it is possible to go anywhere. This gave the present meaning; it gave the song I was currently plodding away at a purpose.
Today, I stood on an outcropping and looked down to the valley. I saw how far I had come. Then I lifted my eyes to the hazy mountain top, snowy and majestic, ethereal and distant. I saw where I could be. Then I turned my focus back to where I am now, on the rock face in front of me and the solid ground beneath my feet, and carefully took my next step.
And I take it one day at a time.
A Last First: Monday will be the last time I experience the dreaded, long-anticipated, first day of school. I finished all my summer work earlier this afternoon. (I am such a bad procrastinator). I am not looking forward to Monday. At the same time, I want to launch myself into the new year, energetic and enthusiastic, and blaze through it with flying colors! So...we'll see. ;)
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Christmas in July (or just after July)
I celebrate Christmas all year. I will burst into "Let it Snow" any season. If your Christmas gift is late, I'll still accept it. I also sing in the choir at my church, and for us, Christmas starts now.
Today, I returned to choir practice after a prolonged absence. Summer scheduling is so fluid and unpredictable. I can't remember the last time I actually came to rehearsal. One week we were scoping out colleges, one week we had company, one week I attended a party, one week it was my mother's birthday, etc. But today, I specifically kept Wednesday night open because I knew...
Tonight, Christmas began.
We only glanced at a few songs, but I am so incredibly excited. I live for this stuff. This is one of my deepest joys in life: singing Christmas songs.
It also made me really nostalgic. One of the songs we looked at was a sort of medley. Pachelbel's canon acts as a motif throughout the song, and Michael W. Smith's song "Emmanuel" is threaded in there too. I grew up on this stuff! This is my heritage, my childhood! My sister and I would fall asleep at night listening to an arrangement of Pachelbel's canon. And during the fall, we would wake up to a bustling mother, doors and windows flung open to admit the smells of a perfect Floridian fall day, and Michael W. Smith sounding through the speakers of our bulky black cd player.
This song thrills me, and awakens that little girl who is so often silenced. Work, school, college: there is no place for her there. But she perks up for the little things: a song, a Disney movie she loved, the first chill of winter in the air. Those things stir her still.
However, it is the teenaged-girl she became who was ecstatic to learn that this year, her church choir of stiff southern-baptists would be singing a Christmas song by her all-time favorite band and constant inspiration, Barlowgirl!
I couldn't help myself. I was sorting greedily through all the new music, and paused when I saw the title, "Hallelujah, Light Has Come". It sounded familiar, so I pulled it out and then released a choked yet obnoxiously loud gasp. I knew this song!
I was disappointed that we didn't get our practice cd's this week: I think I would've stayed up all night listening to them all and picking out favorites. But I guess that can wait until next week.
Today, I returned to choir practice after a prolonged absence. Summer scheduling is so fluid and unpredictable. I can't remember the last time I actually came to rehearsal. One week we were scoping out colleges, one week we had company, one week I attended a party, one week it was my mother's birthday, etc. But today, I specifically kept Wednesday night open because I knew...
Tonight, Christmas began.
We only glanced at a few songs, but I am so incredibly excited. I live for this stuff. This is one of my deepest joys in life: singing Christmas songs.
It also made me really nostalgic. One of the songs we looked at was a sort of medley. Pachelbel's canon acts as a motif throughout the song, and Michael W. Smith's song "Emmanuel" is threaded in there too. I grew up on this stuff! This is my heritage, my childhood! My sister and I would fall asleep at night listening to an arrangement of Pachelbel's canon. And during the fall, we would wake up to a bustling mother, doors and windows flung open to admit the smells of a perfect Floridian fall day, and Michael W. Smith sounding through the speakers of our bulky black cd player.
This song thrills me, and awakens that little girl who is so often silenced. Work, school, college: there is no place for her there. But she perks up for the little things: a song, a Disney movie she loved, the first chill of winter in the air. Those things stir her still.
However, it is the teenaged-girl she became who was ecstatic to learn that this year, her church choir of stiff southern-baptists would be singing a Christmas song by her all-time favorite band and constant inspiration, Barlowgirl!
I couldn't help myself. I was sorting greedily through all the new music, and paused when I saw the title, "Hallelujah, Light Has Come". It sounded familiar, so I pulled it out and then released a choked yet obnoxiously loud gasp. I knew this song!
I was disappointed that we didn't get our practice cd's this week: I think I would've stayed up all night listening to them all and picking out favorites. But I guess that can wait until next week.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Time is SO Not On My side
It is not supposed to be this late. School is not supposed to start next Monday. And I'm supposed to be able to sleep in tomorrow.
However, reality disagrees with me.
This is my last week at work (hallelujah!!!) I work at a grocery store, and because I plan on ranting later, I think it might be in everyone's best interest not to disclose the name of the company. Anyway, my poor feet are so tired. (I'm such a wimp. I worked all of four hours...) And I have a long shift on Thursday. I have to be at work at 7:30!!! In the morning!!! Oh, the horror!
I don't know how adults can do it. Working eight full, back-breaking hours in one day? With only one break? And they come back and repeat this process five days in a row? I can't grasp the concept. And goodness, having to use that money to pay bills and rent and taxes and to buy food? I am so incredibly blessed. My paycheck is puny, but most of it stays with me. I pay for the gas in my car, and I sponsor a child through World Vision (more on this later). The rest goes straight to the bank - my College Fund. *fanfare*
Point being: I'm spoiled, and I know it.
BUT! Keep in mind, I have held a job, which is more than many teenagers in the modern American society can say. A very humbling job, at that. Bag-girls get to clean bathrooms, and heft heavy grocery items around, and chase down carts in the parking lot, and bite their tongue when rude customers insult them...Anyway, this experience has been good for me, I think, looking back on it. It's the kind of stuff that builds character (even as it breaks your spirit...)
But that's enough melodrama for tonight. Those four long hours at work have exhausted me. I have to rest, because tomorrow is another long day. Well...long in a loose sense of the word.
However, reality disagrees with me.
This is my last week at work (hallelujah!!!) I work at a grocery store, and because I plan on ranting later, I think it might be in everyone's best interest not to disclose the name of the company. Anyway, my poor feet are so tired. (I'm such a wimp. I worked all of four hours...) And I have a long shift on Thursday. I have to be at work at 7:30!!! In the morning!!! Oh, the horror!
I don't know how adults can do it. Working eight full, back-breaking hours in one day? With only one break? And they come back and repeat this process five days in a row? I can't grasp the concept. And goodness, having to use that money to pay bills and rent and taxes and to buy food? I am so incredibly blessed. My paycheck is puny, but most of it stays with me. I pay for the gas in my car, and I sponsor a child through World Vision (more on this later). The rest goes straight to the bank - my College Fund. *fanfare*
Point being: I'm spoiled, and I know it.
BUT! Keep in mind, I have held a job, which is more than many teenagers in the modern American society can say. A very humbling job, at that. Bag-girls get to clean bathrooms, and heft heavy grocery items around, and chase down carts in the parking lot, and bite their tongue when rude customers insult them...Anyway, this experience has been good for me, I think, looking back on it. It's the kind of stuff that builds character (even as it breaks your spirit...)
But that's enough melodrama for tonight. Those four long hours at work have exhausted me. I have to rest, because tomorrow is another long day. Well...long in a loose sense of the word.
Monday, August 17, 2009
Say cheese!
I have to admit, I feel pretty ridiculous writing about myself and throwing it out into the Internet as if someone is going to find it interesting...so let me explain the real purpose of this blog.
School starts in a week, and I will be a senior. (AH!!!) I'm so excited, for one thing. I'm about to step into adulthood. College and all the new freedoms that come with it are just a year away. I'm choosing my future right now. As I look at different schools and start applying, as I write my college essays and as I take my final classes at my high school, I am uncovering the rest of my life. I am deciding it, molding it, defining it.
And that terrifies me. Life right now is so simple and comfortable. I know where I will be a month from now: right here, in the same town with the same friends. (Unless something drastic and life-changing happens *knock on wood*).
But a year from now? I have no idea where I will be, who my friends will be, where the friends I have now will be...it's all one big question mark.
I guess tomorrow is always like that, though. We can plan as much as we want, but we are never really certain what the next second holds for us. Life gives us no guarantees. But that reality hasn't ever been as clear to me as it is right now.
So anyway, this is my last year of high school and I want to make it count. I want it to be epic. I want to remember it always!
And of course, I love to write. One day I want to be a novelist. (Yes, I'm incredibly ambitious). It has been suggested to me that it would be quite practical to start a blog. If nothing else, I can practice communicating in a lucid and creative way every day. So...I hope most of what I'm saying is fairly lucid and somewhat creative...
*topic change* Guess what? I had my senior portraits taken today!!! I spent more time on my hair and make-up than I ever have before, and you know what? I looked just like I do every other day of the week. Nothing special.
Another notable topic of discussion: how casual are casual pictures really supposed to be? Because I don't know about everyone else, but I was planning on wearing something a bit dressier than everyday for this picture. These pictures will represent us in the senior yearbook, after all. However, due to a slight misunderstanding and a lack of preparation, I did not realize we were taking the casual pictures today and so I dressed...very casually, in just a run-of-the-mill t-shirt.
I was a bit disappointed, over all. But at least my yearbook pictures will be genuine, right?
School starts in a week, and I will be a senior. (AH!!!) I'm so excited, for one thing. I'm about to step into adulthood. College and all the new freedoms that come with it are just a year away. I'm choosing my future right now. As I look at different schools and start applying, as I write my college essays and as I take my final classes at my high school, I am uncovering the rest of my life. I am deciding it, molding it, defining it.
And that terrifies me. Life right now is so simple and comfortable. I know where I will be a month from now: right here, in the same town with the same friends. (Unless something drastic and life-changing happens *knock on wood*).
But a year from now? I have no idea where I will be, who my friends will be, where the friends I have now will be...it's all one big question mark.
I guess tomorrow is always like that, though. We can plan as much as we want, but we are never really certain what the next second holds for us. Life gives us no guarantees. But that reality hasn't ever been as clear to me as it is right now.
So anyway, this is my last year of high school and I want to make it count. I want it to be epic. I want to remember it always!
And of course, I love to write. One day I want to be a novelist. (Yes, I'm incredibly ambitious). It has been suggested to me that it would be quite practical to start a blog. If nothing else, I can practice communicating in a lucid and creative way every day. So...I hope most of what I'm saying is fairly lucid and somewhat creative...
*topic change* Guess what? I had my senior portraits taken today!!! I spent more time on my hair and make-up than I ever have before, and you know what? I looked just like I do every other day of the week. Nothing special.
Another notable topic of discussion: how casual are casual pictures really supposed to be? Because I don't know about everyone else, but I was planning on wearing something a bit dressier than everyday for this picture. These pictures will represent us in the senior yearbook, after all. However, due to a slight misunderstanding and a lack of preparation, I did not realize we were taking the casual pictures today and so I dressed...very casually, in just a run-of-the-mill t-shirt.
I was a bit disappointed, over all. But at least my yearbook pictures will be genuine, right?
Sunday, August 16, 2009
All Streams Flow Into the Sea
First of all, a brief explanation: the URL is a reference to Ecclesiastes 1:7, "All streams flow into the sea, yet the sea is never full." Why that verse? Well, I love Ecclesiastes, for one. I was really struggling not that long ago, over-burdened with work and school, with decisions and ambitions and failures. So I read the book of Ecclesiastes...which really depressed me.
Right off the bat, second verse of the first chapter: "Meaningless! Meaningless!" says the Teacher. "Utterly meaningless! Everything is meaningless!"
I read the whole book in two days (which isn't really that impressive, considering it's only 12 chapters long) and everything that I had been working so hard to hold on to, all the balls I had so diligently juggled for so long...one by one, they were knocked to the ground. Meaningless.
It took me a little while to figure out how uplifting, how liberating Ecclesiastes can be. This life, the things of this world, everything under the sun is temporary. Everything. So things don't matter as much. When you have everything all neatly in perspective, stress isn't a factor anymore, and you don't have to waste time chasing after the wind.
Of course, I have trouble maintaining a realistic perspective. I need constant reminding. If I'm going to be keeping this blog up, and writing about all these temporary meaningless things, I need to be reminded where they really fit in the big scheme of things.
Besides, Ecclesiastes is just so poetic. :)
More on the nature of this blog (and it's author) later. For now, sleep.
Right off the bat, second verse of the first chapter: "Meaningless! Meaningless!" says the Teacher. "Utterly meaningless! Everything is meaningless!"
I read the whole book in two days (which isn't really that impressive, considering it's only 12 chapters long) and everything that I had been working so hard to hold on to, all the balls I had so diligently juggled for so long...one by one, they were knocked to the ground. Meaningless.
It took me a little while to figure out how uplifting, how liberating Ecclesiastes can be. This life, the things of this world, everything under the sun is temporary. Everything. So things don't matter as much. When you have everything all neatly in perspective, stress isn't a factor anymore, and you don't have to waste time chasing after the wind.
Of course, I have trouble maintaining a realistic perspective. I need constant reminding. If I'm going to be keeping this blog up, and writing about all these temporary meaningless things, I need to be reminded where they really fit in the big scheme of things.
Besides, Ecclesiastes is just so poetic. :)
More on the nature of this blog (and it's author) later. For now, sleep.
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