Limbo

So I'm currently blogging from my brand new laptop! YAY! I finally got it! It is a Toshiba Portege R705. Or something like that. It has 4 GB of something and 500 GB of something else. My space bar is squeaky. But most importantly, it's blue.

So I have registered for my classes for the fall. I changed my schedule a little bit because I was in need of an honors class. So now I'm taking something about our American government and the influence of all the cultures in our nation on our politics. Or something like that.

So I'm leaving two weeks from tomorrow, and that kinda freaks me out. I'm super excited, but I'm also seriously not ready. So much to do between now and then, and so little time! I feel like I should be doing something right now, packing or preparing or cramming in memories. Instead, I'm just wasting my time playing Solitaire.

I did finish my scrapbook, though: my summer project. My mommy helped me a LOT, but it is finished now! So, that's something I accomplished this summer, if nothing else.

Two weeks...two weeks from tomorrow.

A Rose By Any Other Name

I love my name. I love that it's mine, mostly. I do happen to think I have a pretty name, but I love it most when I hear it.

Have you ever noticed that every person says your name differently? People who don't know you well have a certain hesitation. There is distance. But those who know you, when they say your name, it's as if they are claiming you somehow. "Yup, I know her. That's Nina." And I'm normally not a fan of people claiming ownership, but this is the one instance when I like to hear that degree of familiarity.

I also love nicknames. Some of my friends actually call me by my adopted pen name, Nina. It's a little bit different because that is a nickname I gave to myself, but those who use this nickname still made it their own. And some of my friends never picked it up because they came up with other nicknames for me. Some of my friends don't have any nicknames for me, and neither do most of my family members. I guess it's not really the specific name that matters, whether it is the name on my birth certificate or some variation or a nickname that I earned somehow. Those are all my name, my identity.

And when someone I know calls my name, for a split second I feel very certain that I belong.

Nina Update

Okay, so, I know who my roommate is! We will be living on campus in the fall, and I have received one email from her. She seems very nice and I'm excited to get to know her! I think we'll get along very well, and one point of interest: Maria's roommate has the same first name as mine, though they spell their names differently.

I also just had orientation at Auburn, also known as Camp War Eagle. It was a bit of a reality check for me. I leave for school in a little less than a month. I will be taking a total of 17 credit hours. I'm incredibly excited but also really nervous, mostly about having enough time to practice piano and study, and about making new friends. I absolutely have to keep my grades up, in order to maintain my scholarship. This summer has just been so free of responsibility that I think it's going to be really hard to settle into a routine again.

In Sunday School today, we talked about war. The Bible definitely teaches that we should submit to authority. I think that means respecting and honoring our president, even if we don't necessarily agree with him. I think that means following our leaders into war sometimes. Some wars are necessary, but I couldn't tell you which ones. I know that the freedoms we have in this country didn't come freely, and I'm grateful for them, but I want nothing to do with war. It terrifies me.

There's a boy from my church who graduated early and enlisted. I ran into him at Starbucks the other day, in uniform, paperwork spread out on the table before him. He casually shifted the cigarette pack and lighter away when I approached. He was only in town for a week. It was so strange to me to see him like that. He is the same age as I am. I remember him in sixth grade, when I met him, and he still seems like such a little boy to me. I pray that God will protect that little boy.

I'm also incredibly grateful that even in this time of war, we have not yet instituted the draft. I can't imagine any of my friends getting plucked from their lives, full of so much promise and potential, to go fight. I don't think I could ever understand the sacrifice it requires. I don't want to have to understand.

Point being, I really appreciate our soldiers.

Dinner Conversation

My family and I have some of the strangest dinner conversations. My dad enjoys making cheesy puns or speaking in rhyme. My mom tries to 'make funnies', but her laughter at her own jokes is much more amusing than the punchlines.

My eight-year-old sister tries to make jokes but most of the time, we don't get them. (We laugh anyway.)

My dad also likes to dissect my grammar. I got in the habit a while ago of using the word 'personally', so of course my dad had to ask, when was I not speaking personally? And just tonight, I used the word 'honestly' as a preface to a sentence, which brought a similar question from my dad.

Honestly, my use of the word 'personally' is meant to assure you that what I am about to say is merely an opinion, and I am aware of the fact that you may legitimately disagree. Personally, when I use the word honestly, I'm about to make a confession of sorts, and I expect you to feel privileged to witness this moment of frankness.

So now you know.

If you would like a sample of my family's lame sense of humor, here is a joke that I participated in creating. It's not very original, but I don't think we've heard it before. I think we can claim to have come up with this on our own. Anyway, curtesy of myself, my youngest sister, and my mother:

What did the pirate say to the Cashew Delivery Man?

(Wait for it...)

"You drive me nuts!"

A Thousand Words

So, I've been thinking lately about the sheer power of words. I talked a little bit in my last post about how words need to be backed up by actions, but really that's just the positive words. If those words are going to be believed, they need to be repeated, emphasized, pressed into minds and hearts.

But that isn't true for negative comments, especially with children. All it takes is one insult, and they'll believe it. Maybe even for the rest of their lives. I still remember things kids said to me in elementary school. Not cruel, damaging words. Just small slights that lodged in my head, that still crop up once in a while.

I remember things that I've said, comments I didn't stop to think through, rebuttals that were too sharp.

The thing is, I'm not the only one. I may be slightly over-sensitive, I don't know for sure, but I know everybody has been stung by words, and everybody has made their own verbal blunders. Why are we so careless? Why don't we teach caution in schools? We're so bent on securing our civil rights, our freedom of speech. What about our responsibility for our words?

People pepper their conversations with curses until they're completely illogical. If you drop your pencil, it's perfectly acceptable to drop the f-bomb along with it. Really? You couldn't say "oops" or "my bad" or just laugh? Why not be creative, or resurrect some little-used saying? "Crud." "Fiddlesticks." "Aw, crumbs."

And what about words that are just nasty? For instance, the term pissed off. There are a million other ways to communicate that sentiment. You could be angry, upset, miffed, ticked off, going nuts, driven crazy, driven bananas, driven bonkers, driven up the wall (you can be driven lots of places), furious, seething, sick of it, dealing with a pain in the neck, disgruntled, seeing red, about to blow a gasket, worked up, frustrated, wrathful, indignant, steaming, fed up, had enough, had it up here. You could just be plain mad. There are so many terms, so many options.

Choose wisely.

Miscellaneous

So I haven't blogged in a while. I couldn't decide whether I should start an entirely new blog for my upcoming college experiences or whether I should continue with this same old blog. Then I couldn't decide at what point I should switch.

The transition is graudual, so...I'm not going to acknoweldge it. I'm going to keep on blogging here, I think.

This summer has been...interesting. I've been enjoying myself, but there's also a little bit of guilt because I feel like I haven't accomplished much of anything. I feel wasteful and lazy and self-indulgent. So yesterday, I helped my mother prepare dinner and clean up afterwards. I also met up with my employer-of-sorts and former choir director to discuss what hymns I'll be playing at his church when I sub for him later this summer. And then my youngest sister and I dressed up as princesses, with princess hair and princess make-up and princess dresses, and watched a princess movie while eating princess ice cream.

I don't always know how to relate to my little sister. She's ten years younger than me. There's so many things I want to tell her, but I don't think words are sufficient. If those words are going to mean anything to her, they need to be accompanied by action, backed up by tangible proof. I need to show her. So that's partly what last night was. Last night was supposed to say, "You're beautiful and incredibly important. I love you."

When I read and comment on the multitude of stories she is constantly on the computer typing out, that is meant to say, "You're talented and I'm proud of you."

When I am out of town and I make sure to wear the bracelet she gave me every day, wondering if she'll notice when I show her the pictures, that says, "I missed you!"

I hope it translates.