Lessons in court

4 months to 20, and here I am, clinging to Your hand.  Hoping and praying my independence doesn't slip away, my ability to move, to leave. Affecting my opportunities, my chances to learn. You make it evident that I am not alone, no, not ever. I enter each room with Your eyes upon me, Your spirit within. I take the stand, swearing to tell the truth and nothing but, and Your confidence and peace are there.
And You are here.
Guiding my steps always, protecting and testing me. In trials, I suddenly become aware that all hangs on a thread. My life is not in my hands.
I pray for specific outcomes. Let my record be not affected, let not my points increase. If anything, let me pay the fine and move on, holding that little plastic card with a picture of me. I pray to be viewed with mercy and favor, by You and by the magistrate. Funny, how one freedom taken away can affect your life, make you learn to trust. But in the end, all I can really ask for with assurance is peace.

Pick a day, any day!

( AGAIN, this is not a judgment, criticism, etc. It's me thinking, observing, and coming to my own conclusion about society at large; not a conclusion about one individual person. In other words, I'm not writing this out of indignation or anger. Also, if suggestions are given, I include myself in those who should listen to them). I recently heard that many Christian churches offer services on days other than Sunday, and the most prevalent day of the week offered as an alternative happens to be Saturday. ...Thoughts abounded. In this post, I will endeavor to put them down.
First thought. I'm not a big history buff. It interests me, yes, but the way school textbooks write it down and make you study it does not do anything for me. I prefer documentaries, interviews, first-hand accounts, etc. However, I do know enough to know that the Sabbath was changed at some time or other (I'm really not good with dates) from Saturday to Sunday by some government/church, and made official on the calender. Sunday became the 7'th day. Jews and Muslims, of course, held to what they believed, but it was another way to get them to resemble the society around them. Now days, the calender has been put to rights and everyone can go on their day.
Second thought. Their day. A lot of churches see that people have days that just don't work to come to church, so they make sure they offer a day that fits the schedule of some in their congregation in order to keep them in the congregation. 'Your what-used-to-be-thought-of-as-a-consecrated-sabbath-day too full to come worship and study the Scriptures? Well, then, how about another day?'
Going on. I know people that think having a sabbath, a day of rest, in the week is so important... they make it a Wednesday. That's their sabbath. I also know people that keep the Sabbath on Saturday but go to church on Sunday. I know people that keep the Sabbath on Saturday, but don't go to services when they have something else going on. 'Your party some distant relative invited you to is more important than fellow-shipping with others of the same belief? Well... at least you aren't going to church the next day.' I know people that go to services on Saturday, keep that as their Sabbath, and work, watch whatever on tv, and listen to whatever on the radio. Consecrated? Hmm....
The point, the conclusion: We build and shift and shape and schedule our own day, our own sabbath, to fit what we can do, what we want to do. We change something that was set in TIME, as a continual regulation for all generations. We pick and choose and throw away until it works for us. It is MY day of rest after all. Shouldn't it cater to what I want? Ex. 20:8: "Remember the Sabbath day to keep it holy." That is one of the Ten Commandments. Remember. Remind yourself that WE keep it holy; if we do whatever we want to on it, is it a holy day? Is it any different? Is it set apart? If we pick any day in the week, does that day keep a special significance to us? Does it mean anything?
I'm not saying 'do it my way'. I'm not saying that I even claim to know the best way. But, I am saying that we should think about what we do, how we prioritize, etc. It's one day in the week... One day, we get to draw even closer to our Maker, to feel even more peace and give even more joy. Why do we have to change that?

Holier than Thou

(BEFORE I SAY ANYTHING: This is not a judgment, this is not ragging someone out. It was something that was said out of hand that made me think. That is all.)
Without trying to give away too much, I recently was a listener to my friend's heart. I heard many things, but one of them struck me in an odd way. She had just been through a rough time in making decisions (I can relate), and expressed that she found it frustrating and confusing that someone else saw 'signs' and heard 'messages', while she hadn't. First, I want to say that Yah chooses to whom He will speak, and that even if He speaks to us, we may not hear it. That wasn't new to me. What she said that bothered me and brought up some questions was, "I just don't understand why, when I'm so much closer to God, he heard Him and I didn't." My friend is a Christian while this person who ended up making a tough choice isn't religious at all. No heart connection, just head knowledge, is how my friend puts it. Now, in thinking yourself 'close', you think of yourself as 'higher'. She just couldn't understand, then, how and why the Father would speak to someone 'beneath' her.
So, my question: what makes one close to the Father and another not?
I'm not arguing religions here, different codes and laws and rulings. There are people I know that don't really know what they believe, yet they live better lives that those who would assume themselves to be 'closer' because of what they profess. If you are close to Yah, shouldn't you be able to see how you should live? Or do you content yourself with the knowledge that you're close, and don't take the time to look? How does one know that they are, in fact, 'above' the other? What so clearly distinguishes this?
Puzzling over this the other day, I asked a good friend of mine... (what did I call him last... Rejad?) what he thought. He is a thinker of deep thoughts, so I felt I was bound to get somewhere with him. I put the question to him without context, and he answered immediately: choice. I asked him to explain, and these are his words, "Sometimes Yahweh chooses us to be close to Him, and sometimes we choose to be close to Yahweh." This led to discussions of faith and love and, again, choice. I am agreed with most in my circle that faith and love are not feelings, they are actions, they are choices. The word that faith originated from is emunah (I'm not sure how to spell it, I'm going by how it sounds), Hebrew, meaning 'Trust'. The definition of 'faith' is "Belief that is not based on proof:" Trust: "Confidence in a certainty." The big difference here is emotion. A lot of religions today get all hyped up about how emotional you get, about how much you feel, about the passion. This is daunting to a lot of people. The young man with head knowledge and no 'connection'... he doesn't know what to do because he doesn't 'feel' like they do, the people at this huge church, crying, falling to their faces, and dancing. Now, I am NOT bashing that at all. I grew up in a charismatic church with people speaking in tongues. Whatever works, it's not my problem, not my concern. For the people that get that, go ahead. For the people that don't... now what are they supposed to do? The ones that act out of logic, reasoning. The ones that weigh the pros and cons. The ones that decide; the ones that choose. 
Back to my question. How can you judge yourself and another correctly? And if you are religious, isn't it a sin to assume you're 'closer'? You know the saying, 'Judge not lest ye shall be judged.' Here is another quote, one of my favorites, "You never know what's going on in the heart of another human being, and, unless you love them the most, you'll never know." (Shlomo Carlebach) You can't fully understand, and you definitely cannot judge someone's heart. Least of all Yahweh's. The heart will choose whether or not it will allow the closeness of the Father. He will judge your heart and deem it wise when to draw you near.
We are not to think of ourselves as higher, closer, better. Prov. 11:2, 29:23. We are not to compare ourselves to others to know where we should be. Our walk is not theirs, their walk is not ours. Luke 18:9-14. There is no physical appearance, there is no certain belief, there isn't a best way of how to pronounce something or profess it. There is only the heart, the choice of the heart. Contrary to popular opinion, it is not one mess of emotions bound in a chocolate box and ribbons.You don't have to get all excited and wound up to know something, to choose something (though it's fine if you get excited about your choice). In all, shouldn't it be enough to know you are close, without thinking of those closer or not as close? 
We are not to build ourselves up.Yahweh will lift us. In our eyes, we should all be as equals. We dare not assume or even question what Yah sees as differences. We are all in search of the same thing, we just take different roads or walk different ways. Who's to say which is best?

Library Hours- a series of discriptions (2)

There is this brother and sister, at least I think he's her brother. I can't really guess at his age, as his face bears the sign of his being handicapped, though he's somewhere in his teens. She brings him here, to pick out movies for a bit, but mostly to read. She's older than he is, and responsible for him. She finds young adult books that he can decipher, and speaks to him in a soft and encouraging tone. He listens to her every word. Never does she make him wait around while sitting at a computer, nor does she leave him alone.
I've seen her get frustrated with him, it's apparent on her face. Instructions not heeded, and her tone becomes exasperated. I can only imagine why. I hear her say, "When mom and dad get back this weekend...", "When our parents get home...", "I know, mom and dad have been gone a while, but they'll be back.." It seems she's raising him on her own. Though, I can only see half of the story. And perhaps I'm even making one up. I just wonder how she feels when she's home.
There is a mother and son, the son with special needs. He can read the juvenile chapter books, and loves the series 'Hotel for Dogs'. He gets excited about little things, and corrects her often on which movies he's seen. The mom is stylish and intelligent, with only one thing linking her to her husband: an eyebrow piercing. The father, I don't see as often. He looks to be the biker type, yet has the softest of voices and a ready laugh. The patience they each have for their son, the way they know what he wants. I think to ask if they had any other children, and then decide not to. I can imagine at some point in their lives they said, "One is enough..." The road it took to get here with him, the hours spent teaching... and who knows what. Was it from birth or after? Was it a shock? I have the utmost respect for them, I can't even comprehend. The love must be bigger, stronger, with one so dependent. They must be thankful for smaller things... and remind themselves, this must have been meant to be.

Library Hours- a series

Working amongst the shelves, you see things. Things that the employees at the desk don't see. Walking in the rows, you hear words spoken by anguished and joyous souls. Pieces of lives whispered in your ear, ears that are now privileged and haunted by what they know. For this is the life I lead, in contact every day with people I've never before seen, or that I see several times a week. We do have regulars, we also have strangers. And when I say strangers, bear in mind that not only are they hitherto unseen and unknown, but also unheard of. They're new, in every sense of the word. Bringing a new story, a new light or lack thereof, into the room. The room at the library. This is where I work.

It's summer, and in the summer we receive several teenagers here. Some I only see in the summer, some come at other times, and still others are entirely new. It's interesting to see and hear the ways and speech of these young people. I myself am only 19, but I feel old, quite old; therefor, anyone younger than myself by more than 6 months seems, in my eyes, a fresh life, a child – empty of experience and full of wonder. Some are more wonderful than others, but all have a story to tell.

Ashley and Trevon, best friends forever. Ashley seems to have more trouble than Trevon, though she doesn't bear the scars Trevon silently does. I feel uncomfortable and inept around Ashley; she has that affect on you, you know, the one where you feel she is royalty and you aren't worthy to look at her. Trevon, on the other hand, is quiet and smiles back. If I were to guess at their ages, I'd say they were around 17-18. If they were to guess at mine, they'd say I was 12. Because Ashley has it all together: she dresses the right way, talks the right way, walks the right way.. all she needs to do to be perfect is lose weight; that's what she tells herself. Trevon is a big lady; about 5'11 and heavy built. She listens to Ashley complain about her weight every day; one can only wonder what is going on in her head, “If she's overweight.. then I'm a whale.” They sit in the corners when Ashley has her way, far from all eyes but mine, and away from every one else's ears. If Trevon is fed up, or arrives first, she snags a computer, and Ashley pouts under the desk, messing with Trevon's feet. She's been seen laying on the floor, torso under the desk, just watching people stare at her. I've never quite understood this... If you want attention, shouldn't you do something good to get it?

There is a young man that comes in perhaps once a month during the summer, maybe more. I think his name is Trevor, though I can't be sure. He used to work here, in my position, so he doesn't talk to me. Observing him, I have to say... he's odd. Almost the essence of 'geek'. Glasses indoors, tie dye shirts, a shaggy uneven beard, long disheveled hair... and he speaks of the X-men as though they are gods. It appears that he and Ashley used to have a 'thing', whatever that means. She just hides from him now. To be honest, I don't why he is the one who seems to be confident. I suppose he's just more comfortable with himself. Kudos; more like him. He has a sister the same way; content. I don't know her name, but that's ok, she probably doesn't know mine. Her hair is purple and quite short, but she seems as if she came from an Amish community, she's so nice and quiet. Just goes to show: you can't judge a book by it's cover.  

Spock would have a heart attack

Silent are the thoughts and many are the deeds of those around us. Linked to all, this circle continues to drive and will fall, throughout the time and space continuum. The paradox unknown. The rift, it widens and sucks in and lets outside any who dare oppose the sight. If your pulse continues, it is to create the throb you experience in the front of your mind.
Touching and feeling our way, grasping through the confusion of swirling answers and convictions taken back. Promises break and the strongest emotions grow faint. On the face of life, make a stamp. ? Curve out the idea, fight against every wish, run through thick fog, we all know of this. The preferred, the chosen life is one of bouncing, spinning, diving. The logic escapes me, for there is no sense, only reason.. explanation. Understand? Do we take the time to think...

The Evolution of Losing the Ability to Hear

We have evolved at such a pace that we now have no need of our ears. They must be there for show, because they obviously aren't in use.
I went to a Matisyahu concert last night with my hip mom and groovy aunt. I had been looking forward to it ever since purchasing a ticket a few weeks back. Mom has seen him in concert 5 times now, but she still gets as giddy as ever. We were ready to jump around, sing, dance, and soak in the lyrics of his music along with everyone else in the crowd, or at least a good portion of it. Maybe we were on the wrong side of the room though, because I don't think there was much lyric soaking going around. Alcohol, profanity, promiscuity, and violence soaking aplenty; maybe the message didn't have room to get in through all of that.
I have to say, it was the least enjoyable concert I've been to ( and this is number.. 12, I think ), the most disappointing for sure. I was with my mom and aunt the whole time, but that didn't stop much. I was climbed on, I had beer splashed on me, and I was slammed around by a guy that must be one of the new humans created by this evolution process; he obviously couldn't hear me nor my aunt pretty much tell him to back off. I had to resort to using an elbow, but there seems to be a package thing with the ears going on.. he either had ribs of steel, no feeling in his torso, or I need to work out more.
I'm finding out that people are becoming more comfortable with themselves in public. With doing certain things in public. With absolutely not caring at all in public. I saw a couple in their 30's enjoy a good long kiss at Ceder Point on Sunday. The much younger couple right in front of my mother beat them. I've seen signs of drugs and usage in my neighborhood (not often!). Last night, I saw the most dark circled, wide eyed people on planet earth. One such person was wearing a glow-in-the-dark wristband, which he held an inch in front of his eyes, twirling. Saddest part.. he was wearing something else as well: a yarmulke.
None of this really surprised me, to be honest. It bugged me, sure, but it didn't surprise me. What really did it was the fight. It was the end of the show, the encore. People were chanting, "One Day! One Day!" This song is one of my favorites. I'll quote it directly, leaving out repeats :
Sometimes I lay under the moon
And I thank God I'm breathin'
Then I pray don't take me soon
'Cause I am here for a reason

Sometimes in my tears I drown
But I never let it get me down
So when negativity surrounds
I know someday it'll all turn around because

All my life I been waitin' for
I been prayin' for, for the people to say
That we don't want to fight no more
They'll be no more wars
And our children will play, one day

It's not about win or lose 'cause we all lose
When they feed on the souls of the innocent blood
Drenched pavement keep on movin'
Though the waters stay ragin'

And in this life you may lose your way
It might drive you crazy
But don't let it phase you, no way ( bridge and chorus)

One day this all will change
Treat people the same
Stop with the violence down with the hate
One day we'll all be free and proud
To be under the same sun
Singing songs of freedom like

During this song about PEACE, about UNDERSTANDING, about EQUALITY... a fight starts. Right next to my aunt. These people weren't teenagers. They weren't even in their twenties. They were middle-aged men. I have no idea what caused it. By the looks of things, the dude with glasses accidentally bumped into two men, who looked as big as the security guards (and the guards were huge), so they pushed him into other people, one happening to be my aunt. Now, I love my aunt; she held him and talked nicely to the old bullies, trying to just soothe them and smooth things out. When that didn't work, she asked a simple question, "Why here? Don't do this here." The reply? "Shut the *#%! up, don't *#%!^(& touch me." I was there, right next to her. I know that part of the reason she involved herself was to make sure I would remain ok where I was. The other reason was because NO ONE ELSE, none of the young men, none of the older men standing around did a thing. Another woman led the victim away, with a look on her face the same as my aunt's: Why? 
All of this made me angry, frustrated, upset. It also made me sad. All of these people here to listen to one person, one person who carries the weight of example on his shoulders, the sorrows of a people, of nations, of his family. One person who went through hell to get to wear he is. ... The question is, where is he?
Matisyahu is Chassidic. This religion has a dress code of certain fabrics, certain styles, certain colors, esp for men. Matis is not following it. This religion does not permit men and women outside of their own families to touch one another. Matis went crowd surfing, passing right over me. I ducked, and I did not touch him. I am a 'fan' of him on the evil facebook. He's swearing. I can understand the crowd. The stupidity of the masses. They aren't proclaiming anything, trying to spread any message; they just want a fun time. Matis does have a message, he does try to spread this, and he professes and makes known what he believes. I know that celebrity carries with it many burdens and stresses. I also know that Matis married a Chassidic woman, and has children. Not only is he supposed to be a light unto us, but to his own little family as well. What is she thinking of all this? What is he? This is where I get the look, this is where I don't understand: Why?
"Let us hold fast the profession of [our] faith without wavering; (for he [is] faithful that promised." (Heb. 10:23)

"No man can serve two masters: for either he will hate the one, and love the other; or els he will hold to the one, and despise the other. Ye cannot serve Yahweh and man." (Matt. 6:24)

The thing right now is...

 Trust. I seem to be learning, am involved in, or hear about lessons in trust on a daily basis. It all started when I had a problem with a friend, was going to try to fix it/him, and Anaro told me that he had a bad feeling about it. He was afraid that, while I put myself out there, not worrying over my feelings because I would be focusing on my friend's, that I would be hurt. It didn't matter that this friend lives in a completely other state, that he's in his early teens, etc. Anaro was looking out for my emotions, my mental stability, my self-esteem. After a long discussion, I finally asked, "Do you want me quit talking to him?" He questioned, "If I told you 'yes', would you?" I replied that I would. He said, "Yes." True to my word, I'm not speaking to this young person, and most likely just in time. Anaro hates to feel the tiniest bit controlling, but there is a difference between controlling and caring.
The definition of trust is : Firm reliance on the integrity, ability, or character of a person or thing. Notice the word 'reliance'. A synonym of 'reliance' is dependence. Surrendering your independence is one of the hardest things to do. To not be entirely in control, to be only part of the equation, wondering if the other half will come through. ( America teaches trust, while it teaches independence. No wonder we're falling apart ;) Perhaps even harder than relying on and trusting a person, is doing the same thing with the Father. With a person, you can speak to them and hear an audible voice answer you back within seconds. Rarely does this occur when praying. With a person, you can see them act out their part, keeping the bargain, letting you know that you're in good hands. With Yahweh, you have to trust in this, even when you claim to know it. One of these situations happened that same night I had to trust Anaro, and the lessons in trust have kept coming.
With my devotion to people, my ear to their worries, my mind to their problems, it makes complete sense that I would go to college to become a psychologist or counselor, yes? I mean, I would love it. I could see people on a daily basis, cover all types of situations, and actually be paid for doing something I'm doing already. Anaro brought this up, though half in jest, during our discussion. I've thought of this occupation many a time, and have a list of pros and cons. Cons: I would be making something I love into a 'job'; I could not necessarily choose my patients; I would have to work from home (this is my goal for when I have children: stay at home mother) and who knows what kinds of people and .. vibes?.. I'd be bringing into my house; I would be alone with untrustworthy people at times; and to make any type of profit off of this, you have to have at least a bachelors degree. I do not want to go to school that long, as in the end I will be at home teaching my children, and don't need that debt for a .. 5 year career? The pros are that I would be using an obvious gift that Yahweh has blessed me with, I would be doing something I already know I'm good at, and I would be helping people (hopefully). Going through this list that night, I doubted .. again.. that I had picked the right career.
After getting off of the phone, I prayed a long while. I strove to hear Him, to receive some sort of sign or word in order to know that I was not deviating from His plan for my life by not choosing to become a counselor. I did not get anything, except tired and sad. Funny, how when you're ready to hear, it's like He's saying, "Oh, you're ready now? Well I had to wait, now it's your turn." There are countless verses in the Bible about time. 'According to the times .. ', 'At this set time...', 'And it came to pass in the process of time...'. Ecc. 8:6-7 has something great to say about time, "Because to every purpose there is time and judgment, therefore the misery of man is great upon him. For he knoweth not that which shall be: for who can tell him when it shall be?" To every purpose there is time.. And it's gonna be miserable for you to wait it out.
I got an answer the next day from someone very close to me about what to do with my new .. or renewed.. doubts. I didn't have to wait long, though I had prepared myself to trust that I would receive an answer when it was due. I heard what I needed to (and no, I'm not changing careers), and I thanked the Father for putting His people in my life, and His words in their mouths. Not all tests of trust are as quick.. and even some that are can be much harder to bear.
Ever heard of people with 'trust issues'? This usually occurs after having your trust in someone shaken, or even completely shattered. The events and situations that can do this vary, and depend on the temperament, personality, and values that the recipient of the hurt has. It could be that what they expected of someone wasn't delivered, it could be that someone abandoned them, it could be that someone very close to them lied, etc. I have not been hurt in this way very deeply or very often, and I am quite thankful. However, I have gone through situations where I've been hurt and disappointed and confused by someone I allowed to get close to me. The result of this happening is what I think we refer to as a 'defense mechanism'. When someone starts going down a path that I was hurt or betrayed on, I throw up walls. Other people do this in similar ways, by avoiding that person, not talking about it, or by not being truthful with people that are becoming close to them. With so many people afraid to trust others, afraid to let others see them, it's bound to happen that someone you are close to, that you have let in, hasn't quite let you in yet. This may be the ultimate blow; finding that someone you trust completely didn't trust you enough to let you see them, that they have been throwing up walls to keep you out. I experienced this in one night.
It's a process. You are hurt, confused, you cry. In my case, I should have been angry, but I wasn't. I understood the reasoning, and with anyone else I would have accepted it and continued to be the best friend I could be until they invited me in. The big problem was that I had always believed them beyond a doubt, and, though I understood, I was shaken. Thinking that I knew them, that they had let me in, only to be deceived? Going through all of the questions, whirling through the discussions you've had that may have not been true, coming to a stop where you have to decide. Due to circumstances, I had to decide faster than I perhaps would have; I was leaving the next day, and I wanted this done, I wanted to get through.
3 choices were presented to me by my logical side: 1. I could leave this person, or take a break to sort things through. 2. I could continue to stick to them, though doubting everything, never knowing. 3. I could stay, and believe, though honestly admitting that I would have doubts for a while. For the first, I only counted it because this close friend, upon admitting their past defenses to me, was afraid I'd leave. I honestly wouldn't have even considered it. The second is illogical; to stay with someone you won't allow yourself to trust, to continue to let yourself doubt them and your relationship. The last solution, then, is what I came to, and I have followed. It's work for both of us, yes, but in the end we will be much stronger. "You may be deceived if you trust too much, but you will live in torment if you do not trust enough."
What I've come to find from all of these examples lately, these wonderful lessons the Father has deemed to bless me with, is that there are several parts to trust. Blind belief, of sorts, coming from what you know of someone. Dependence, surrendering your worries and cares, allowing someone to care for you. Patience, obviously, as you aren't in control and you have to wait on the one/One that is. The last, the biggest, is understanding. Understanding all of the other components, understanding who it is you're trusting, realizing your part in the equation, recognizing that sometimes there are fails in the system. What you do when that happens is the ultimate show of trust.
"If you say you can trust someone then you are admitting to something even greater than love. Trust involves all of your thoughts and emotions, to be given to someone for them to have. Trusting someone is knowing that you can be hurt. This is why trust is a word of great power." Greater than love. You can love someone and not believe them, not let them in. They are behind you, or to the side for you to care for, for them to care for you. Trust someone, and they are beside you, they are with you, and you are with them. 

A New Position

Anaro, my best friend and potential .. mm.. caller?.. , recently moved from Grand Ledge to an apartment 15 minutes away from me. Since then, he has had three jobs in my glorious city. (So much for people saying the economy is so bad that there isn't any work) Presently, he works at an electric company.. and Wal-mart. Before working there, it was the only store he would shop at, even though he admitted it's the hick version of Meijer (at least ours is). Let's just say that now.. there isn't any love in this relationship, for many a good reason. That's how it usually seems to go; you work at McDonald's, and you will no longer eat there. I work at a library, where there will be an ice-cream event next week on a day I don't come in.. despite my love of ice-cream, I won't be coming in. It's the natural order of things.
For the well-being of this post, I've asked Anaro to narrow down his reasons for why he hates working at Wal-mart to just 5. Why 5? Mm... Actually, I don't have a good answer for that. I could have just done 3. Anyway, reason 1 is that he didn't receive any training. They kind of hand you the equipment, point you in the general direction of where you're supposed to go, pat you on the back, and say, "Good luck, soldier." You may think that working at Wal-mart doesn't require much training. Think again. If there is an enemy out there.. it's based at Wal-mart. We need to defeat this enemy. How are we supposed to do that without training? Luckily, only the sturdy are hired at Wal-mart. Tattooed, pierced, long hair, some even missing teeth. (Not to worry, none of the adjectives in the previous sentence fit Anaro) These are our soldiers. Be proud, fellow Americans, be proud.
Reason number 2 is the odd rules these soldiers are placed under. In the barracks, during the small moments of time they aren't fighting the deadliest of battles with whole families of whirling amigos, they are not allowed to drink just anything. In the interest of these good men and women, there is a rule saying they may not drink anything other than the water provided in a plastic jug, using 4 ounce cone cups. This water contains what are commonly known as floaters at the top of it.. It is not appetizing. I'm sure there is a darn good secret reason for this, such as testing the endurance of the soldiers, ciphering out those with weak stomachs and the traitors that bring their own beverages. However... really? They do so much for us already, I believe they are entitled to at least 10 ounce regular shaped cups to drink the stuff with.
As a soldier, you never know when you will be called in to duty. Never. The hours vary and fluctuate, with no semblance of a pattern, which is reason numero 3 (or tres). The shifts of fighting will be 9 hours one week, and then anywhere from 4 to 6 the next. Going through all of this, to almost top it off, is the heaviest argument that reason #4 shouldn't exist: low pay. Yes, you read that correctly (or at least I hope you did ). They are paid $7.40 an hour. No normal cups, no tea, no coffee, no clean water, and whirling amigos to deal with.. and the man pays $7.40 an hour. That is just sad.

I hope this post isn't too long already, because now we come to reason number 5, which was the original reason I intended to write of. This reason was imparted to me last week on Friday, receiving a text from Anaro while he was resting in the barracks. This is how it went: Me, "Hey :) I'm sorry I didn't text earlier, I was kinda busy and running all over, but work has slowed so I've got time :) I hope your day is going well, and that you can keep going. I'll see you later today and I absolutely can't wait :)" (Yes, I know how mushy that sounds) His reply, "No worries. I just started lunch. And my gay manager has the hots for me." I texted back, "... Umm," and then called him. It turned out that while Anaro was being spoken to by his general, he stopped in the middle of a sentence, staring at Anaro's open collared shirt, and said, "che... mm, I forgot what I was going to say." Anaro quickly closed his shirt, and then buttoned it after leaving sir general's presence. ... Anaro is a manly-man, and he does not shave his chest hair off and away as most young men do these days (Why do they do that?!), so I know perfectly well why sir general was distracted. However, I was still slightly shocked. In fact, even though I called him, after saying first thing, "Are you serious?," I could say no more. Later that day, I asked over the phone, "Any more incidents?" He replied, "No.. although he did call me 'Anaro, my bro'." 
Now, I want to say that I am in no way writing of this to say negative things about homosexuals/homosexuality. I have nothing against them, other than that I don't quite get how people think a couple is a couple even though they can't naturally produce babies, and that there are a few verses in the Bible that speak of such acts in a negative way. I am religious, therefor I don't plan on becoming a lesbian, but I have had friends who are. If they want to hear my views, I speak them, other than that.. it's their business. Also, I don't know enough about the 'Don't ask, don't tell' policy to say anything about it. .. Except that.
Alright, now that we have that out of the way, what I wish to express in this post is my complete lack of knowing what to do in my situation. I've had competition in the form of other girls, sure.. but not generally in any guys. I know, I know that Anaro does not view sir general as competition for me... in fact, Anaro would wish to not view sir general at all (it's a rather awkward situation, you may have guessed). However, if the shoes were on the other feet, and my supervisor had 'the hots', as Anaro says, for me, then Anaro would be over at the library as often as he could to send home the message that I'm not available for that type of supervision. As a girl, I've never had to do that. Even with other girls, I haven't ever really competed in the way a lot of young women have. So what's a girl to do when her best friend is being eyed by the sir general of Wal-mart? 
I could go over and beat him up... except that, as a general rule, I'm against violence. This isn't self-defense.. this is keeping a hold of a good thing. Defending Anaro. Does he need defending? Probably not..  I could do what he would do and be at Wal-mart most days of the week, hanging around Anaro and being seen by sir general enough to let him know to keep his eyes off the hair; that there is no point in pursuing, so why bother. I could write him death threats, .. and land myself in juvie. I've heard it's not quite as bad as the Wal-mart barracks. Honestly, I've thought quite a while about this new position I'm in. I've gone over ways to kidnap and/or murder sir general. I've cooked up schemes to get him sent overseas to supervise the building of a new Wal-mart in Pakistan. Yes, I've even thought of services to swing him from sir general to SIR general. None have passed the rational, logical, realistic half of me. 
In the end, with where I've been placed in this uncharted territory, I've come to the conclusion that... it's downright hilarious that Anaro has a sir general with an attraction to him, and you know what... I think I'll keep doing what comes naturally: laugh a lot, and make fun of him. Of course, I do hope that sir general does not abuse his authority (though then Anaro would have a lawsuit against him and gain thousands of dollars), and I do feel sorry for him for every reason mentioned in this post. But honestly... how many times in one's life are they placed in a position to make fun of someone they are attached to for receiving puppy love by a manager of the same sex? Yes, indeed, I laugh and say, ".. Office affair anyone?"

Taking Myself Back

Wednesday, I got out of work and started on my own little vacation, heading out to my grandma's. Her house has always been one that holds my fondest memories, and it's associated with many of the people that I hold most dear. I love staying there. This week, I was there overnight twice in a row, catching up with three of my cousins, who just so happen to be three of my closest friends, getting some time in with my grandparents, and getting some R&R for just me. I've come back refreshed and renewed, and I'm glad to be home.
One of the reasons I've come back with so much peace and energy is in part due to my best girlfriend, Raile. She and I have grown up together, and know each other maybe more than we know ourselves. It seems that no matter where we are, the differences we're going through, the many choices we make, the different paths we take, we are always in the same boat.
Thursday night, Raile stayed over with me in the upstairs blue room (it's always been called that) at our grandparents'. Among many many many things that came up in conversation that night, I spoke of how lately I've been very insecure about my appearance, my choices, my actions, my decisions, my speech, my thoughts, etc. I've been in doubt about almost everything. I told her that I don't know why this is, that I can't pinpoint one little or big reason, or even a handful; that it's just silly and I wish I'd stop, because I feel whiny and witchy and frustrated and annoying.. you get the idea. I don't like it, and I can guess well enough that others don't appreciate it either. During my rant against myself, Raile was quiet, looking at me, thinking and listening. After I had finished another sentence of worried and upset emotions, she said, "I have a question. Do you find that you feel even more insecure when you're with someone?" I exclaimed, "Yes! And I don't understand it! You'd think that when you're with someone you'd be happier with yourself because you know someone likes you, but both times I've been in a relationship, I've been entirely insecure!" Raile said she just realized she's been doing the same thing. "The whole time I've been listening to you, I've thought, 'Wow.. that's exactly what I'm doing and how I feel. Why?'" After going off on a tirade about ourselves and wondering why this is so, we quieted down into our thinking modes and sought an answer.
Surprisingly, it didn't take long. We analyzed why we feel so doubtful and came to the conclusion that we are both torn by trying to please the guys we're with and our parents at the same time. A worthy goal, yes? Well, it would be if we went about it the correct way. Raile and I have been so caught up in being spouses rather than the best friend, in trying to make people happy and not disappoint anyone, that instead of acting, we've been stuck, worrying over whether we can or not. For my part, I feel that if I make a decision it will be the wrong one. That I'm constantly being critiqued and judged, as if I'm being auditioned for a role as the perfect daughter AND girlfriend. This is entirely in my head (of course). For the past few weeks, I've been in stress mode because I'll do or say the wrong thing, or realize that I had done something wrong who knows how long ago, and beat myself up over it. I've been cautious of speaking of certain things so as not to bring on unwanted unpleasantness. I've been doubting things about myself that I never had before, because all of a sudden everything needs to be spotless and clean and shiny. Why? Because now I know people are watching, people that I care deeply about and don't wish to anger, disappoint, or lose.
Talking over this, going through our completely similar symptoms, we laughed at ourselves and said at the same that we wanted to call our respective young men and apologize for an hour. However, that would have defeated the purpose of trying not to beat ourselves up anymore. This was Raile's biggest piece of insecurity. Mine was feeling so critiqued that I wouldn't do anything that could be remotely silly; I wouldn't be me. To be honest, neither are very fun. Also, entirely honestly, neither of us should feel this way! Just the thought of dropping the facades, of casting aside worry and self-doubt, was so freeing that we sat in silence for a time, occasionally breaking it with, “Wow...”
Raile and I have amazing, loving, supportive parents. I've made mistakes before, and so has she, I'm sure; they still love us, and, to my knowledge, they don't keep a scoreboard of our falls and trip ups. Raile and I also have accepting, encouraging, and strongly attached guys, who claim to like us for who we are. If this is so, then trying to change and feeling so insecure because we fail time and again doesn't help them to feel more for us. In fact, as I told my best friend, after looking at myself and realizing what I've been doing, I wouldn't blame Anaro for getting fed up and taking a break of me. She said she wouldn't blame Selarch either. “They've put up with so much,” was said frequently Thursday night. In the end, we concluded to tell Anaro and Selarch what we'd discovered, and ask them to call us out on this ridiculous thing we've been practicing. It's almost been a week, and so far I can say that I've had much more fun running around throwing wet clumps of flowers at people and picking said flowers out of my clothes than I would have had sitting in the dining room with nothing to say.
The point we found isn't even that they like us, so we should be us, but that we don't like it ourselves. It was tiring, nonproductive, worrisome, and made us both irritable and depressed. Raile and I, besides this whole episode, have relatively high self-esteem for young women in today's world. We would like to stay that way. Through our conversation, I remembered something I'd told myself about 2 years ago: Don't value yourself by what others think of you, but by what you know of yourself. Most times, people aren't judging you harshly, and even more often they aren't thinking of you at all. You are not the center of every one else's world. You are near the center of yours. I want to make sure that I like that near-center, that the near-center is entirely me. I want to remember the feeling I had when I finally decided that I don't want to be tied down and engaged/married before 22 or 23... Who knows, maybe longer.These years are mine, and I'm just setting out and making footprints in them. Anaro doesn't want a wife right now, he wants me. My parents don't want to think that I'm going to spend these years doing everything I think they want me to do, they want me to do what I want to do. These years are supposed to be fulfilling, not depreciating me.               Now I'll repeat that 7 times daily.

Welcome to Cyberspace

I recently took my sisters to an audition for the play 'Pride and Prejudice'. The next day, I logged on to the social network of Facebook to see that I had a friend request. It was from a young man that had been at the audition the day before, and I was surprised to receive it because we hadn't spoken and weren't acquainted. However, I accepted it, since I was going to be taking my siblings to rehearsals, and perhaps we could get to know each other. I was wrong; my mother took my sisters to play practices. Though I never met him, I now “know” him, because we have chatted a handful of times. In person, I realize that he wouldn't have said half of the things he typed to me, but this is just one of the ways that it is evident that people seem to be more comfortable in having online relationships than they are in real life interactions and conversation. With today's social networks, we have instant contact, instant dating, and instant personal makeovers.

Immediate and public conversations have their drawbacks. Anyone on your friend list

and anyone on the other person's friend list can see what you're saying, what you've

commented, and what the other person has as well. Not only can they read your words, they can respond to you, whether they know you or not. In some cases, a stranger will repeatedly talk to you on a mutual friend's wall, and will eventually just ask to friend you themselves. Hoping to eliminate the middle man, you accept and end up talking to someone you have never met, and, in most cases, never will. This has happened to me several times, the most recent being last fall. I now know the details of a certain young man's life in Texas. I don't know if it's something about females, being a stranger, or if it's just me, but every time I've gotten to know someone on a more personal basis through just the internet, they are always more comfortable in telling me secrets, opening up their inmost thoughts, and confessing sins to me. With the Texan, to illustrate, in a few weeks I was his constant support. In a few more, cell phone numbers were exchanged and he would text me every day, asking what to do in different situations. Another young man that I had known a long while ago and got back together with over the internet, I helped quit smoking. In every case, these strangers say, “I don't know why I'm telling you this...”. There is something about speaking with a person that doesn't know you or your past, that can't judge your daily actions, that isn't biased enough to give one sided advice. Apparently, it's addicting, and it's freeing; obviously, it's easier.

In talking online to random people, there is also a chance that one of you starts to have an interest in the other. I can't count on two hands how many times I've been asked out by an online stranger, whether we were 'friends' or not. For example, my first serious relationship was with a guy I had met once and then got to know online. Of course, it never really progressed, because he was used to the ease of just being 'together' online or in text and I wanted real life interactions. We saw each other perhaps 8 times, maybe less, and were only together for about 4 months. However, I have had my share of letting boys down as well. Every time, I'm taken aback by how casually they take asking someone out online compared to when I've been asked out by boys of the same circle face-to-face. There isn't such a need to build up courage, there isn't such a loss or embarrassment, as there is in person. Online, it's also much easier to keep talking to someone after the let down, or even the agreed date, because you can always be at the same place at the same time. No need meet up, worry over schedules, or even gas prices. No need to worry about how you look, how you sound, how you act. The virtual world is just plain easier.

Online, you can pick and choose how you want to seem. In typing, no one can tell if you have a speech impediment, or how long it takes you to get across what you're trying to say. You can choose who you are going to talk to, who you are going to ignore. What people see of you is in your hands in the pictures and videos you put up and allow others to tag you in. In effect, you can portray yourself as you always wanted to, even change who are you entirely, and no one would know. I've met people in person and then became friends with them on facebook, and have been quite surprised at how different some people paint themselves when it's under more of their own control. Some classmates of mine, that I have had one-on-one conversations with, are utterly unrecognizable in who they have created as their internet alter-egos. Online, either everyone knows you, or nobody does.

As the internet access on various devices continues to rise, people will no longer need to know how to socialize. There are already online colleges, classes, counseling programs, shopping sites, etc. It won't take long before you won't need to leave your house for anything. The web-cam will ensure that you see your loved ones. Businesses are constantly and continuously buying into the idea of online consumers, and why wouldn't they? The flesh and blood world isn't the place to be anymore. Welcome to cyberspace.

The Mathematics of Love

A mathematical problem I am

You say you are a question

Well, for you seek answers

I, a solution

I label you 'Why?'

You ask if that fulfills or lessens

I assure you it does neither

It is only my perception

In finding the equation

You wish only to press on

Though I can wait and deliberate 

For I must be the one

To query at this time

You give me more to say

 Listing lists of pros and cons

Arriving, yet not to lead the way

Setting guides and boundaries

My decision is made

I declare your answer

And you my solution became

The marks of your trade

I will pleasure to erase

And to you forever

I will myself equate

Why fear?

In the dark of a room, with the door closed behind. The switch you've flicked upwards, in that time the light takes to turn itself on, do you move further or do you pause to see inside? Waiting for the room to be revealed, waiting to see something hide. The decision to step forward, the decision to remain still. The room clothed in darkness, why do you fear? 

Before you can see the results, before you are certain of the future. While still testing, still deciding, where do you reside? The knowledge you have already should be enough to stay, the situation moves forward; why do you hide? 

Something pulling at your arm, keeping you in place, dragging you to the floor; but will you cry? Still waiting, still deciding, testing whether you will fall, be caught, or stand tall. Will you decide in time?

Questioning your courage, fearing your resolve, at a loss with none to hold. Exaggerating the outcome, and knowing you'll be alone. It isn't even an inquiry as to whether this is true, it's expressing your emotions, telling others this is so. Telling others what you muse. 

So where does fear reside? In the thoughts you keep to yourself, growing bigger, growing bolder. Festering and poisonous, consuming your mind. The darkness contains it, and you stand still, waiting to be taken, waiting to be killed. Raise your eyes, the answer is there. At the far end, in the silver lining, in the air. Walk to the exit of the tunnel, run if you can, glimpse the sun behind the clouds, and breathe. Hide nothing; secrets are the ground in which fear grows, black and deep, sharp and neat. Lies are the food, silence is essential, and you should know. In voicing hurt, sharing your dread, putting in light the things kept in your head. Keep steadfast and plod on. Fighting this battle with yourself, it's time that you won.

The Meaning

It occurred to me while searching for my own blog, as I had forgotten the URL, that the word or name 'Falador' isn't unique to me or my blog, and that I should share the background of it. First, no, it's not the city in Runescape, which is apparently an online nerd heaven, not that I'd know...
I referenced a male friend of mine in my last post, part 3, the survivor. It's lucky that I did, as he's in this story, right at the center, and now I don't have to worry about introducing him. We shall call him Rejad, even though he isn't Indian or whatever ethnicity that name sounds closest to to you (yes, that sentence needs two 'to's.). Rejad and I have known each other for 10 or 11 years, and have been friends for .. gosh, was I 17 or was he? One of us was, so we've either been friends for 3 years or 5. Sad that I can't even remember. I do remember how we came to be friends, however, and that is more central to the story.
On one of Rejad's birthdays (again with the confusion as to who was 17), my mom urged me to send him an e-card. Rejad and I didn't talk... Or, more accurately, Rejad didn't talk. He was one of the most quiet persons I had ever not met, despite some efforts of mine and my friends to get him to speak. Looking back, he probably laughed at us the whole day, and I don't blame him. He was 2 years older than I am, and still is, as a matter of fact. All of my friends were older than me, excepting some cousins, so it wasn't the age that made me nervous about sending him a virtual birthday card. It was that I felt he would either 1. think of me as the oddest person he'd ever not met, 2. think I had a crush on him, which I didn't, or 3. ... well, there really was no telling what his reply might be. Summoning all of my courage, I found one that I thought of as amusing, knowing that he liked odd things for reasons of his own, and sent it to him. I still remember the card. It had a dog on it, sniffing the screen, and the words said something like, "Well at least you don't smell old yet." It was a wonderful card.
To my amazement, shock, and horror, within the next few days I got a reply. From Rejad. To me. My parents had the time of their lives teasing me about it. I can't even remember what he had said; it was something witty I'm sure, along with a heartfelt thanks for the card in celebration of his birth and reaching an older age. I wrote back. He wrote back. I replied. He replied. It was fantastic.
I found out that Rejad had a peculiar sense of humor, could write well, and was obviously more comfortable writing to a girl than speaking to one. Among the inside stories and jokes of our letters, there is the answer to the name of his blog. Rejad had said something, to which I replied with some words, among them, "Cra.. uh.. nice of you." He combined the shortening of 'crazy' with 'uh' and 'nice', creating the fantastic word 'Crauhnice', about which he has made up a definition, a principle, and pretty much written a few books about (yes, I'm advertising for him).
After a while, we spoke to each other in person at our church fellowship gatherings, and a splendid friendship grew from that. In our letters, we spoke in other languages entirely. Languages like German, Portuguese, French, etc. Online translators are such helpful things.  Our friendship grew so much that we decided we must have nicknames, or he decided that, as next I knew he was calling me Falador. It took a while for me to find the correct language this came from, and when I did, I don't think I got the proper translation. Of course, he wouldn't tell me what it meant, so I had to try several of the different translators found online in my quest to find the meaning of my name. Eventually, I found that it meant, in Portuguese, 'Talker', or 'Chatterbox'.. even, my favorite, 'Speaker of nonsense'. And that was my name from him. And that is the name of this blog. And there.. you have it.

These are the people close to me. These are the people that made me. Part 3

I wasn't part of the gang. I wasn't part of the adventure. The only way I would be involved is if I happened to be there or if someone came to me for advice about their big adventure. It happened that way for my road as well. Instead, not necessarily saying I flew solo, it was as if I had a back-up crew for when I desperately needed someone to be there. And yes, when that time came, my friends and family were by my side in an instant, but no one was involved. They knew what was going on, but they weren't there to see and feel it with me. To share the experience. I sometimes felt it was because they didn't want to. I was always the dependable one, the one who didn't forget, the one who either got things together or at least helped to do so. That's why it hurt. Countless times, mostly with a girl friend, we'd make spontaneous plans for the weekend anywhere from 3-6 days in advance. After so many weekends of no-shows, I started to realize I'd have to remind them. For a while I was fine with that, but eventually I received the feeling that the plans weren't fun anymore and I was unwanted. Of course, that wasn't true, it was just that my friends were more forgetful than I was; but after so many times of making plans, checking a few days before hand to see they'd not forgotten, and finding they had.... you wonder. 

As far as friends of the opposite sex went, I had many. I was a person that, from ages 11 to 15, girls thought was a snob and boys thought was the best chick they'd every met. Not because of any physical favors I'd give them, nothing like that ever happened, but because I let them be who they were. I didn't try to change them, like other girls they'd been close to. They could be comfortable with me, and they respected me because I respected them. Through the years, over and over, I'd hear a male friend say to me that I had a 'gift for guys'; that I understood them. I didn't disagree, as I felt I understood most things and people more than others my age, but I also didn't take it for granted. 

Our friendships weren't all serious, and none of the friendships were the same. I had friends from the neighborhood that would come over to supposedly shoot hoops with my brothers, but really had come to banter. They loved the banter. I have a ready wit, and I use sarcasm in every day life, and they thought it was the coolest thing to watch me put one of them down. They were my brothers as well, and they protected me like I was a sister. If a new boy came around that they didn't think I should be with, they'd let him know. Those friendships were some of the easiest to navigate, because they were simple and honest. Some of my other friendships were of a completely different nature. With boys that weren't from around where I lived, I was the one they came to for an ear. Friends in other states, friends I'd had years before and had just started talking to again, friends that were entirely new still, and friends that I saw about once a week would pour out their inmost thoughts to me, confess their sins to me, and ask me what to do. I never fully understood what it was that inspired such confidence and trust in me, but I never let them down. They in turn fulfilled a need in me to be recognized, were there if I needed a laugh, and encouraged me in everything I did, telling me I could do anything. That I was special.

At 18, I had 2 close girl friends, one a cousin, and about 6 close guy friends, 2 of them cousins. I had an outer circle of friends as well, but I never went to them for anything but a lark, and it was pretty much the same with them. The close friends that have stuck with me through thick and thicker have blood ties to me. My feisty red-headed cousin, my athletic no-nonsense cousin, my sensitive and laid back cousin, and my young brooding cousin. The close guy friends I had when I was 18 either fell away or moved away or wanted to get too close. Only one of them has survived, and our friendship has withstood so much that it's the hardest to navigate of all. Of late, I might talk to one of them about once a week. Feisty and the jock are getting ready to leave the state and country. Laid back is in 2 bands and baseball with practice sessions taking up lots of time. The young one's mind is full of baseball, video games, and girls, while I'm not sure what's going on in the survivor's head. I'd love to know. 

In my life, I have family. I have 5 blood sisters, and 4 blood brothers. Then I have 4 brothers and sisters of my own. I have 5 blood aunts, and 8 aunts to myself. Uncles.. well, I have 5 blood ones. I have blood 3 nephews, one who will live in my heart and memory, and 1 niece with another on the way, while any young boy or girl I meet under the age of 10 is instantly a nephew or niece of mine. I have no children that are tied to me by blood as of yet, thank goodness; that's for later. But I have so many proteges and young men that have either said I'm their mom or that I could be, that I can't count them all. I have many sons. Some have grown and are gone, some are just entering. Don't ask me why I don't have daughters... for many reasons, I don't think it works like that with girls. (There was a time where a close guy friend was a daughter, as he was Arwen and I was Elrond.. and those are the types of stories I have with that friend.) I have 2 parents, one father and one mother; that way I can still say to someone trying to fill that role, "You're not my parent. Thanks anyway." 2 is plenty; I couldn't love any other parents as much or more than I love my own.

This is my family, not even counting my first cousins. It's big. I don't feel alone because I don't have over 400 friends on facebook or 150 contacts in my phone. I don't need them. With a family of this size, with a support group such as this, who needs the 'friends'? 'Friend' is a term I use for the people I speak to about 3 times a month. Those people are wonderful people, sure, but they haven't impacted my life. They haven't shaped who I've become, guiding, directing, and encouraging me. They haven't been close to me. They haven't remained close to me. My friends have made me laugh. My family has made me. And I... am blessed.

These are the people close to me. These are the people that made me. Part 2

The pressure of this was felt at all times. I was responsible, and I kept things like that in mind- “What will this do to the example I'm setting?” - but my Dad also reminded me from time to time when I had thought I'd got it right... and he didn't seem to think so. At those times, with differing opinions on something of middling to major importance, he would occasionally surprise, humble, and raise my confidence by allowing me to do what I thought was best. We would discuss the issue or circumstance, he making his points while countering mine and vice verse, and then I'd think on it for anywhere from a few minutes to several days, depending. I always felt slightly guilty whenever I went against his specific wish in doing what I had decided was better, but he never said a word. He blessed me.

Maturing was daily, it seemed. I came to a point, at 12, where my own mother was asking me for advice. She would rant and rage about some problem she and a friend were having, and did she do something wrong, or tell me the latest argument with dad and how she couldn't have done anything wrong. At 16, my parents went on a trip to another country, leaving all of the kids younger than myself here with me. My older brother and his wife were here at nights, but during the day, my parents had passed all responsibility for their children's safety and well-being to me. They did this two more times, once at 17, and the next at 18, trusting me with lives. With my dad, it was harder to tell when he actually saw me as growing up. He would talk to me as an adult, sometimes let me in on something going on within the family or circle of family friends, but he had a different system for allowing me to grow after my sister had changed so much. It was harder for him to trust me. I think, mainly, that he thought my mom had too much faith in me, that, if I fell, she would break. He would fence me for her safety.

Being fenced in was hard sometimes. It made it so that little things seemed bigger, like calling a bank to activate your new debit card, or going to drivers' training. I started working at 15 as a self-employed office cleaner... a cleaning lady. Until 18, my mom was my sole employee, but we never talked about that much. In her eyes, I worked for her, but we both did equal amounts of work, so we might as well have been partners. We would spruce up the building my dad's company was at, managing condos and their properties. It would only take about an hour at the most, and the check was $50. Once a week. That was my first job. My second job, at 17, was much more of a growing process. I had to actually fill out an application for that, have an interview, and train, on my own. I did it, and two weeks later I was working as a library aid three days a week. And that's how my dad would work. Saying, no, no, that's not how this family operates, and then saying, you need this experience; it's the next step. I hated both phases, going through them. In each, I felt alone. Perhaps that's what he did. Taught me to be alone.

I've always trusted that my parents have my best interest at heart, I've always known that they care. Even with 9 siblings, for most of my life I felt tended to. My mother focused in on the small things, while my dad would keep the big picture of his older children in mind. When I had a problem with a friend, I would find my mom. When I needed guidance in making a decision for my life, I'd seek my father. When I went through a growing phase in my emotional or spiritual life, I would talk to both. I knew even then that whomever I spoke to would tell the other, but I've always found that even the most attentive listener will somehow change the story to my dissatisfaction, and I liked us all to be on the same page. 

My parents cover both aspects of me and where I want to go, through all of my changes and all of my goals. My mom wants me to experience life at the fullest, while sticking to my morals, and my dad wants me to achieve all that I need for a good, full life. They both have the same vision in how they see me as an adult, or in the phase of becoming one. Sophisticated, educated, well-rounded, confident, and happy. Sitting at a coffee shoppe, discussing life and all the oddities thereof with some confidante from a college class. I have to admit, that picture is highly appealing. I also admit that my parents know me well enough to guess how much I'll have to grow outside of my comfort-zone to get to that level. For one, my thoughts on life and it's oddities have always differed with those of others, making the conversation more interesting for me, but not for them. For two, though I talk quite a lot with classmates while at school, I don't bring them home with me. For three, in my experience, classmate or not, good friends have been hard to come by.

These are the people close to me. These are the people that made me. Part 1

I've grown up in a normal city, with a beautiful downtown, and a high class up town. I'm in the middle. The middle isn't so bad; there are stores and restaurants near by, everything is close. There is the occasional fight within blocks of our house, a meths lab behind for a short time, and all of the young men wear their pants to their knees. However, nothing bad has ever happened to us. We are somehow protected, and I always thank Yahweh for it.

I have three older siblings, two brothers and a sister. These are half-siblings, from my mom's previous marriage. I was the first child she had with my father, though they waited two years, which is understandable, already having three kids. So there is a gap of three and a half years between me and the youngest of my mom's first marriage; everyone else had around 2 years between them. After me, my parents had 4 children. All girls. For a while, they had thought of stopping, but my mom's heart was touched by a young boy my aunt was fostering along with his sister. He was something I had never seen -- completely out of place. My aunt could not handle him all the time, so we would babysit him on the weekends, and he connected. His sister had cerebral palsy, she was 3 or 4, and my aunt wanted to adopt her. The thought of having the pair separated broke my mother's heart, and she decided to do one of the craziest things in the world-- make him part of our family. My dad, of course, was a bit shocked and not at all sure what she was thinking. However, after prayer, they decided, and the process began. During the long and arduous wait for finality, my mom became pregnant with the youngest, a boy. And there our family stopped.

 My place in all of this was defined, yet with blurred edges. I have middle child syndrome, as they call it, as I was the fourth oldest with 6 under me; but I also have the oldest child syndrome, as I am a first born. My personality shows both of these at work. I went through a period where I felt I didn't belong and I didn't really know who I was.. or that no one else did. That no one paid any attention. So I became an introvert, mostly entertaining and keeping to myself, always doubting what others thought of me. I became shy, because I felt no one else would understand or care. My older siblings, especially the oldest, my sister, didn't exactly have a talent to manage at that time; they mostly wanted to keep to themselves once they reached a certain age, and only exercised the rights of the older sibling rarely. Therefore, my managing skills could be used, and were. You have to see, though, that my dad has been a manager in business since 17, and it is hereditary.

My siblings respected me naturally then, and still follow me. They look up to me as an example, and at times I don't know what to do with it, except to do my best. Of course, in the early teenage years, there were rough spots, but overall I was 'the good one'. The two oldest, my sister and brother, were strongly opinionated as teens, especially when it came to their relationships with the opposite sex. My sister left my parent's house at 18 to move in with her dad, whom she saw on weekends, and step-mom. She married her boyfriend, whom my parents objected to at that point, soon after. These choices were her own, and she took her life in her hands, making the decisions she felt were best. They now live in another state, with two children of their own, and her husband has had hard times with work. My brother had a good heart, and could be logical if he chose to, but he was very passionate, and that sometimes got in the way of good thinking. He had a few 'problem girls', one that he'd honestly thought of marrying, but he allowed my parents to speak into his life, and saw the light of how things would fall in reality. He fell in love at 20 with a girl he had known pretty much his whole life, his best friend's sister. They married, and moved into our basement-apartment. He graduated a year later, and she became pregnant. Work was scarce, and, though he had a degree in engineering, he couldn't find a job. He worked for my dad until just last year in July, and they moved out Thanksgiving weekend '10. His wife is now pregnant for their second. 

So you see, though they were generally good children, they did mess up the good example bit, and I was then the first. The first to do things right.

I'm on the right track, I just haven't started yet.

I recently ended my first semester of college, doing well in all of my classes and making the Dean's list.  Prior to college, I was homeschooled my entire life. I'm not one of those that fears the outside world; I've done plenty of extracurricular stuff to well acquaint myself with the diversity of human beings this earth possesses. I'm one of those that fears the inside world; I fear failure. 

I conquered that fear of failure in respect to school by succeeding in every class I was in. Then, those tasks were assigned to me, and I to them. I sat down to homework with a vengeance. I jumped in with two feet, starting school, proving to myself that I am plenty capable. Capable of tackling tasks created for me by someone else. 

Lately, I've been waking up around 7 or so every morning, with this big pit in my stomach and a huge pain in my head. I've been worrying again. Yes, I admit it, I really do worry over silly things sometimes, over-thinking and over-analyzing all over the place. However, I usually know what I'm worried about. This past half-week I haven't. I was frustrated with myself, telling myself there is nothing to worry about because I'm not doing anything but going to work 4 times a week. In fact, since school ended, I've been so bored that I considered registering for summer classes. My mind needs to be occupied, and not with some un-named anxiety. Stress is not a good thing to have on my emotions list.

Last night while talking to my best friend, I was telling him of my boredom and trying to figure out what was bugging me and why. He's used to me being worried over things, though he doesn't like it, so he was struggling along by my side to find this unsettling fact. Asking me a few questions in hopes of narrowing it down, with me replying  in the negative to all of them, he sighed and gave up for a few seconds. In that space of time, I inhaled, held it, and blew it out slowly, trying my best to not get angry at him because I was frustrated with myself. In that space of time, I felt vulnerable. I grabbed onto that, and told him, "I think I'm afraid." "Of what?," he asked. I was quiet, thinking of all that I'd done recently, then thinking of what was coming next. "What are you afraid of?," he asked again. I laughed slightly and replied, "Growing up." 

I turned 19 in March, I have two jobs and a beat up jimmy, I just picked a major for school, I know who my friends are and who my real friends are, and I know where to go for advice. I have a base, I have a foundation. I still feel that little prior to now has prepared me for what is coming in the next 2-3 years. I have a rough plan for my life, a plan that I'm happy with and excited about. There is a wide open space in front of me, blank and untouched. I haven't made a ripple, or at least I don't feel I have. With this space, I don't know where to start. What steps do I take first, how do I know they are the right ones, am I ready, can I do it?                Will I fail?

I have to create my own tasks now. I've never been too great at starting something of my own and finishing it. I begin with a bang and I fizzle out. This time though, it isn't some small project we're talking about. It's a big chunk of me. Now is the time I become who I'm going to be for the rest of my life. After a few years, it will be harder and harder to change. After another few, it will be well nigh impossible. And after that, you're stuck. I don't want to be stuck.

I have hopes of getting a third job in the near future, something I'm going to work at, not expecting it to just fall in my lap like the others. I have a session early next week where I'll register for fall classes and make my major official on paper. My four month anniversary is coming up next Wednesday (laugh if you will, I know it's short ;). Perhaps I have started and haven't yet seen the outcome. In any case, the choices I will be making will have impact, an impact I have high hopes will be positive. Failing at life is not an option. What do I do with this fear? Let it debilitate me, paralyze me, stop me? No. Do I forget the fear, put it out of my mind, ignore it? No.  Just because you don't have to worry doesn't mean you shouldn't care. Do I ask others what they think, relying on their confidence in me? No. You can't value yourself by what others think of you, but only by what you know of yourself. What do I know? That this fear can push me, but I can direct where to.

Life Changes- An Introduction

                  Growing up, you think of your life as being that of a fairytale, complete with a happy ending,

perhaps some tragic twists for excitement, but always going according to your dreams; sticking to what

you always wanted. As you get older, you come to realize that life has a mind of its own, and we are

only in as much control of our fate as those before who got stuck with dead-end jobs and a pile of

divorces. I love and agree with the saying, “Everything is a choice,” but that mainly applies to what

you do with the cold, hard facts of life. Nothing is easy, and you have to strive to even make a choice;

work in order to see. The life you thought you would have and the life you end up living are rarely in

accordance. Comparing what I had wanted my life to be with where I am now and where I am going

is a perfect example.

I had wanted to live quietly, to be honest. Most likely get out of high school, date some guy,

and get married to produce children. Not really into going to college, nor getting a real job. Against

everyone's wishes, I was adamant on this. I was not confident enough in my social skills, let alone my

mental skills, to even think about going to college without cringing and getting a headache from stress.

Now, of course, I get a headache from the overload of homework, and cringe at the thought of the gas

I'll be pumping into my 2000 GMC Jimmy guzzler in order to get to school. On the way there, I laugh

at how scared I once was, and reassure myself to just take things as they come. Life is too short to die

early from the heart attack I could give myself, worrying over things. Things like how long it's going

to be before the man I'm with and I can be completely serious due to school and finances, let alone get married and have kids. Oy vey, that was a big change.

Leading up to where I am now, something else was to change, several times: my choice of

career. Started out with the basic answer: elementary school teacher. Then schools started to close and

teachers were losing their jobs. Quick switch to becoming a librarian. I work in a library as an aid, and

have always enjoyed the office atmosphere. However, after I did a little research, I found that the

college I'd enrolled in didn't have courses in library sciences. The nearest college was in Grand Rapids;

too close to move to, too far to pay for the gas to drive to. Ditched another idea while settling on my

old mainstay: piano teacher. Quiet and comfortable. After this semester, I now plan on changing that

once again, going for a 2 year degree to become an administrative assistant. My work ethic and

professional personality finally made it evident that this was the right choice. I was dating a young

man during my tumultuous career swings, after having been through 2 other disastrous yet semi-

relationships. It was quick, though it was supposed to last a lifetime; a few months after we had

crashed through plans for everything, he dumped me, and a few more after that I was with the person

I'm with now. I never thought that dating more than one boy would happen. My life seemed to be

taking me willy-nilly.

My goals have remained relatively the same: succeed in what I set out to do. There is another

constant, self doubt. It has lessened, noticeably, since experiencing more that life has to offer.

Confidence in myself, in who I'm seeing myself become, has grown. The quiet life I once wanted with

a sort of quiet passion is now replaced with a want to travel, to dare, to try. Perhaps it's only a phase

one goes through, being afraid of trying new things before you ever have, and then wanting more

and more once you've tasted something fresh.

I pity the people who feel responsible to track my growth, my changes. I can hardly keep track

of them myself. It's an odd thing to compare yourself to yourself.. to see the differences and

similarities in what are essentially two separate beings, two different people. Maybe we all have split

personalities and need to see a shrink; though it could just be me with the issues. However, I've

heard time and again, “I'm so different from what I used to be.” It's true that people change. Our

goals, our thoughts, our ideals. We make the choice to give ourselves the opportunity to grow.. right

into someone else entirely.