Articulations from the Extroverted Introvert

This past weekend, I went on Fall Getaway which is essentially just that. I got to know many different people while at the bonfires or canoeing or on a hay ride. It was through Campus Crusade, and I really did learn some important things. Oddly enough, the things that were being taught directly were not the things that I brought home with me.

While sitting in the middle of the campsite, surrounded by beauty - trees, a lake, and the sunshine beating down on me, a certain verse came to mind. Psalm 139:23-24 “Search me, O God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts. See if there is any way offensive in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.”

In the middle of so much confusion in life right now, I realized that this should be my prayer. I want the way everlasting. I need God to know my anxious thoughts, because for sure no one else does. The entire rest of the Psalm just confirms the fact that God knows me and is, and always will be, there; I cannot get away. It’s pretty much amazing.

Yesterday, I took care of some things. Ahem - like paying off all of my fees (books included) for the whole semester. Gasp.

You see, I have been paying a small (more like large) sum of money each month on what is called the deferred payment plan. What they never told me about this plan (sneaky jerks) was that they tack on an extra fee at the end of each month for whatever is yet to be paid. I found out and set out to pay my bill, no longer wanting to be fooled by their scheme to snatch an extra $30 here and there for no good reason.

Unlike everyone else I know, my parents are not paying a penny for this so-called education. Despite this killer detail, I refuse to take out loans. It’s not pride so much as it is fear of being in debt from now on. This I cannot handle. Therefore, I took a huge breath and trudged over to Carrington Hall after the majors fair (to be discussed later).

The lady told me I owed $5,000, and I almost quit college then and there. Then she said it again. Having paid for more than I would have liked to and with the knowledge that scholarships should have helped me out, there was no way I could shell out 5 grand.

Then, thankfully, she realized she was adding (or multiplying) a few numbers incorrectly, and I regained composure. I wrote out the check (sold my soul) to Missouri State and walked out feeling a ginormous burden (or large sum of money) lifted from my shoulders. So what’d I do next? I ran up the five flights of stairs to my dorm room to reward myself with some well-deserved M & M’s and resist from running back to demand my money back.

I don’t care who you are or what you say, without paying for college yourself you will never fully appreciate it. Until your bank account has been wiped out in order for professors to yell at you and throw you out of class, you won’t understand. I don’t care if you have a job, or have to pay for half of it. Until you have to consider the weight of each test and what it may do to your scholarship (and if you can continue to attend said university), you do not have any idea what this amount of money looks like. Until your only views of the mall are from the street as you drive by, and you avoid coffee shops, Wal-marts, and anything other than the campus dining center so you don’t lose a few dollars on something as ridiculous as good food for a change, you do not know what it is like. If your budget for outside spending for things like entertainment or clothing or random objects is more than $20 a month, you don’t get it.

It feels as though someone told you the pool was shallow. So you’re like okay cool, but then you get in it and realize they are all taller than you. They can touch the bottom with ease, unlike you, meaning you are trying to stay with them, all the while gasping for air, waving your arms and legs frantically, barely managing to keep your head out of the water. You do the best you can to however seem as though standing (or sinking) nearby them is as easy for you as for them. So while everyone else only has to worry about things like making friends and overcoming homesickness, they still get to have a really good time without any further worries. I am slowly being drowned into an empty bank account, leading to debt and ramen noodles for the next ten years, all the while trying to have a good time with no worries like everyone else around me.

Don’t you dare tell me it’s all going to be worth it in the end, especially if it wasn’t your penny that saw your through those years that are apparently “the best years of your life”.

Acronyms Are Dumb Stupid And Annoying

Lying silently in a dark room, curtains and covers both cover any outlets of light from my eyes. Noise comes in from the hall that I block out with soft music that causes me to catch my breath as I relate it to my own experiences. Hours pass. Maybe a movie, playing for the same nostalgic reasons as the music. Clutching a pillow tightly and closing my eyes I try to dream of anything else. It cannot be done. Go away, please just go away. I want to be here and alone in the cool darkness, covered by the weight of my blankets.

Don’t tell me what’s wrong with me. Don’t tell me how to fix it. Don’t expect me to change it. Don’t judge me or be disappointed. Don’t try to get me to leave. Don’t come in. Don’t do anything.

Please, just let me be.

When I was younger, things were simpler. Not only was I incredibly and blissfully naive, but I had less and had experienced less. I wanted less. I was so much more content. Don’t get me wrong, I threw my occasional fit if I didn’t get the clip-on earrings I wanted or whatever else I felt I absolutely had to have.

I remember that when I was in 6th grade, we got our first CD player in the family. Yes, we are a bit behind in the world of technology but tape players worked just fine, and in fact better than CDs but that is a different story. My parents got a tiny one track CD player for me for Christmas that was purple, which I loved, and also had an AM/FM radio. For my brand new CD player I had one CD. The CD was by Jaci Velasquez, who was my favorite artist of all time throughout elementary. One CD. That’s it.

I listened to that CD every night, probably multiple times a night, for months. One day, I went over to a friend’s house. When we went into her room she asked which CD I wanted to listen to. Upon seeing her CD collection I looked in amazement at the CD stack that contained THREE different Jaci Velasquez CDs among dozens of others. Of course Jaci was my immediate choice, but I distinctively remember wondering how she did it, so I asked. “How can you ever choose which Jaci CD to listen to? I would have no idea which one to choose!” The reply was something along the lines of “I don’t know, I just do,” and we went on to do whatever it is 6th grade girls do.

 A few nights ago as I was listening to my ipod I kept scrolling down over artists I have always liked but recently have forgotten. It was then that I remembered having only one CD just over six years ago. I have tons of music compared to then. My collection of music is days long, yet I still am wanting to add to it. That’s so lame. I have sooo many things. Realizing things like this makes me want to give away everything I have and live off the essentials. Why is it that we feel like we need more and more all the time?

I would just like to bring attention the the fact that it is absolutely disgusting to post pictures online of you and your significant other kissing (unless maybe if you are old and married, in which case, that’s weird). Honestly, I have no desire whatsoever to be subjected to such a vision. If you want to take this sort of pictures for your own personal viewing, then that is your own deal, fine. The rest of us are far better without such blatant display of pda.

Why, you ask? Because for starters, it’s awkward to be able to see you and your boyfriend with each other’s tongues in your mouths. It is NOT cute. Cute is a picture of laughing or smiling, maybe holding hands. I don’t say this because I am jealous or bitter. Trust me, I am all too happy to be without such a picture for all to see. Another thing is, it doesn’t really show that you are soooo “in love” or whatever. It is not that special or hard to take a kissing picture. Quit acting like we should all be impressed. What are you trying to prove by putting it up? There’s no good that becomes of it. It is definitely not creative or original. It’s just dumb, please remove said pictures immediately. Thank you.

[Insert Picture of Sam kissing Boy]

Now wouldn’t that be a funny twist to this post?

Reading Rainbow was an amazing show that taught kids how much you can learn my just opening a book and letting your imagination soar. Unfortunately,  thousands of people my age cannot remember the last time they read a book because they wanted to all on their own. This is such a bummer…

Recently, I read a book titled “Sex God” by Rob Bell. Rob Bell is a pastor in Michigan and is well-known for his nooma videos and other book titled “Velvet Elvis.” Anyway, Sex God is all about, you guessed it - Sex. And also - God. It connects spirituality with sexuality. I would highly recommend it, and in fact have told quite the number of people about it. Some kid in my religion class said he read it too, and that was basically super cool. Anyway, I digress.

One of the chapters explained something to me  that I have always known, but never fully grasped. That is, that we are all humans. We are. Therefore, we have this connection that is so close to one another. We have our differences but then we have the fact that we are all humans holding us together. Lately, I have appreciated that seemingly small fact all the more. When in a large group of people I enjoy looking around and watching the interaction taking place. When walking around campus, every student, professor, or employee that walks by means so much more to me.

They are like me. I am like them. We have things in common based on the mere fact that we are both a part of the human race. It opens up your mind to people other than yourself. So maybe some people party or do drugs or wear preppy clothes or don’t shower often - regardless, they are humans that experience many of the same emotions and feelings that you feel everyday. We are humans.

The movie appropriately titled, “Meeting Resistance” is constantly meeting resistance from all groups of people. Essentially, two journalists decided to hear from those fighting with the resistance groups in Iraq (what Americans might term as the “bad guys”). Now, the movie continues to “meet resistance” as it tries to show the movie in theaters and on the news.

Sunni and Shi’a, men and women, they all aim to be martyrs. A young man told about leaving his family and friends. Before leaving his mother pulled him aside and said “Don’t come back alive, come back a martyr.” A woman, probably in her forties, mother and wife talked about assisting by transporting weapons in her clothing for missions and said she yearns to be a martyr. One of the men explained that before the Americans had occupied their country they did not necessarily support Bin Laden or Saddam Hussein, but now they did because they are Muslims and stand together. If their mothers, brothers, or children are taken in order to catch them or to obtain information they do not care. It is more important to follow through with the mission. Many devote all of their time and money outside of their daily lives to resistance movements. Religion plays such a significant role in their decisions that it seems futile to try and change their minds.

The movie opens a person’s mind up to a different perspective. What we cannot fully determine is if what is being shown on the screen is an accurate portrayal of the thoughts of those living in Iraq or if it is just a small group working with the resistance that feels this way. One of the men explained that if it were the other way around, and we had an army marching around with huge guns and tanks aimed at civilians we would resist too. We would not like it even if they thought they were “helping us”. We cannot just go occupy the country, it isn’t fair.

I had the pleasure to then listen to a question and answer session with the directors/producers of the film - Molly Bingham and Steve Connors. They were pretty liberal and basically questioned why we ever went to war, let alone were still in it. They never found out the names of the people they interviewed but got some gritty information and some great footage. Molly was even in prison for a little while right before they began filming. They must lead very risky and interesting lives. It was a good experience to have seen the movie and listened to them speak, however I have a hard time making my own decisions on how I feel on the matter. It is such a sensitive subject, and it is hard to know who or what to believe.

Everyone has a secret. Or more than one. They can be funny, serious, intense, tiny, interesting, etc. The thing about secrets is that they are so powerful. Knowing your own secret can be a burden or a blessing. Knowing someone else’s secret can be the same way, but also there is something bonding about them. When someone shares a secret often you want to also be vulnerable and share with them as well.

Tonight I went to a lecture by Frank Warren, the author of Post Secret. He talked all about secrets of course and how he gets hundreds each week. His home address is the one on the first book. I have always loved those books and cannot wait to see the fourth one coming out.

What’s my secret? Well there are dozens but the secret of the day is… I’m not sure what I am doing here or how long I’ll stay. College is fine, I like so much about it and am not homesick or struggling, I just feel as though I could be spending my time doing something so much more meaningful. Most times I mention this someone says something about working in a restaurant the rest of my life and never making money. It isn’t what society deems as a good idea. The thing to do is go to college. I spent all of high school and most of junior high preparing for college and now don’t want to be here. Unfortunately, I have no idea what to be doing instead.