The Finals are Coming

Here it is.
The week all students dread:
FINALS WEEK.

It's that week in the semester when BOOM everyone shows up again and you're just sitting in class like "I thought everyone had dropped this class".
It's that time when everyone - students and professors alike - are just so tired that everything is funny. Not seems funny. Is funny.
For example, one of my classmates was tossing an object into the air and catching it during one of our classes. Wasn't bothering anyone. Suddenly our professor turns around and does a double take.
"Is that a hard boiled egg?"
My friend and I started laughing hysterically as our classmate just stared at him.
"No. . . "
"What is that?"
"It's lip balm. . ."
"Oh okay."
"Do you have something against hard hard boiled eggs?"
"I really do not like hard boiled eggs."
"Okay. . ."
Our class was not the same that day.

And here is a haiku about finals:
I can't remember
I learned this four months ago
No no no no no

This is not an overreaction.
Trust me, it is not.

Being 21

Remember when you were a kid and you thought Sweet 16 was so far away? I mean, heck, Sleeping Beauty, Ariel, and Snow White were married at 16!

And then you turned 16 and you realized that you didn't know anything and what the heck were those girls thinking, getting married at 16?!

You just got your driver's licence!

You thought 18 was the thing. You could tackle anything when you were 18.

Until you turned 18.
Then you realized you totally do not have a handle on much at all.
The next milestone is 21.
21.
Where you can literally - and legally - do anything you want.
Within reason, obviously.
Well, let me tell you, Girls-younger-than-21, 21 is not what it's cracked up to be.
Yeah, you can basically do whatever you want . . . but with that said, there's a lot of responsibility on your shoulders.
I know a lot of gals my age - including myself - that would just love nothing more than to curl up with a tub of ice cream or and popcorn and watch Disney Princess movies all day.
And maybe a little a lot of Doctor Who.
But we can't.
We've got college.
We've got jobs.
We've got bills to pay, assignments due, and people counting on us to get things done.
That's not to say that we don't have moments of calm or just time to have fun and relax, but those moments don't come often.
Girls-younger-than-21, treasure your moments of freedom.
You might be bored, but another word for boredom is free.
And treasure the innocence.
And the simplicity.
Enjoy it while you can.
It's not going to last.

"But I just wanna help. . ."

I'm pretty sure we've all said that at some point in our lives.

To most of us, the desire to help seems natural, almost impulsive.

We have to do it.

We want to do it.

And sometimes most of the time, we can't.

Not in the way we wanted to, not as much as we wanted to, or sometimes just not at all.

I saw this the other day on Pinterest:

It reminded me of a time where I was trying to help two individuals, but it just seemed like every time I tried, I hit a brick wall. I felt like I was giving, and giving, and giving, and giving, and it was just going nowhere.

One simply wasn't listening to advice - and instead making me their personal shrink complaining about problems they could have prevented, not if they'd listened to me, but if they'd used a bit of wisdom and common sense - and the other was simply convinced they couldn't forgive themselves for mistakes made in the past and that they couldn't change.

Needless to say, the fact that I wanted to help them so badly and I couldn't didn't exactly make me feel like a very good friend.

I felt like crap.

And that didn't help anyone.

That period ended, and those two friends and I just sort of . . . stopped.

Stopped everything.

Whether or not their situations got better or not, I don't know, and I'll probably never know.

I hope so.

All I wanted to do was help.

Fast forward about ten months.

I see that pin.

And I start thinking.

I realize that whoever made this pin is right.

You can't help everyone.

That's not to say your desire to or advice you may give isn't worth anything, but it just may not be what they need right then.

You may not have the experience, the knowledge, the skill, or the wisdom at that time to really help that person where they are.

But there's Someone who can.

And last time I checked, He takes referrals.

But there are people you can help.

People that need your experience and wisdom from where you are to help them where they are.

You may find those people to be few and far between, but they're there.

While you may not be able to help everyone, you can help someone.

And it's the someones of this life that count the most in the next.

If you won't learn from your own mistakes. . .

. . . at least learn from someone else's.

Namely, MINE.

Okay, freshmen, listen up: no, you don't want to cram your first two years full of gen-ed classes because you don't want to be slammed with whatever classes are required for your major. 

You'll go crazy.

But don't slack on your gen-eds . . . Like I did.

Namely, I was really good in taking my foreign languages while they were still fresh from high school.

I waited about four years to take my math.

I waited about five years to take my sciences.

Ten out of ten would not recommend!

So if you're one of those stubborn people who doesn't learn from your own mistakes, at least learn from mine.

(Oh yes, and I also have to take speech; ironically after I've given the bulk of my class presentations.)

(Un)Happy Happenstance?

Sometimes everything goes just how you want it to.

And sometimes . . . okay, usually it probably doesn't.

That can't be the end of everything.

You can't let it beat you.

Beat it.

Try harder.

Change your plans to work with how things are now.

And win.

Who knows?

Things might turn out better this way. . .

Oopsie Daisies

I'm sure we've all had that one moment where we went: 

"Oh. Poop. I did not think that one through."

I know I have, and I'm brave enough to tell you about it.

It's utterly hilarious, but at the same time really . . . not.

So this summer, I was working full time and working out afterwards.

That meant I essentially had 10 hour "work" days.

Needless to say, after that, I'd be tired, and rarely up for silly shenanigans, though I'm generally total game for a good shenanigan.

I was house sitting for a lady I know and watching her dog. He was a really sweet old thing, but nearly blind and almost if not totally deaf.

She had an alarm system - it didn't work on this one specific door - so she didn't use it; it's a pretty safe neighborhood.

Remember that. It's important later.

So every morning I'd let the dog out to do his business in the side yard, and every night I'd do the same thing when I came home.

Thing is, at night, this giant puppy would set off the motion-detecting light. It would turn on then off then on then off ad nauseam. 

It drove me nuts.

Well, on my third or fourth night there, I let the dog out and noticed that the light didn't turn on.

Whatever.

Well, the poor baby's deaf, so I had to go outside to get him; he wouldn't be able to hear me calling for him.

I go out there, all the way out to the end of the yard, and coax him in, and that light still doesn't cut on.

I still don't really care.

As soon as we get inside, the light snaps on.

And stays on.

Yeah, NOW I care.

See,

No, not of rational things that could actually inflict bodily harm.

Of Aliens (yes, capital A), the Flood, krakens, spiders, plesiosaurs, and other such monstrous calamities.

I legitimately prayed to not be the first ten minutes of Supernatural.

Yeah, I was freaking out.

I tried a few switches and decided there was really nothing I could do about it, so I went to bed, thinking I could ignore that infernal flashing outside my windows.

Ha.

Nope.

So I get up - and by this point it's about 12:30, 1 am - and I try the switches again.

None are connected to it.

I go outside to see if there's anything I can put in front of the sensor to make it shut the heck off.

There's not.

By this point, I'm really scared that someone's figured out I was staying there alone with an old, deaf doggie and they were out in the bushes waiting for me to give up and forget to lock the door.

I called my dad - who was 2 blocks away - and start blubbering (not crying, just tired, scared blubbering) about not being able to shut the light off and hence not being able to sleep.

For having been woken up at like, 1 am, he was incredibly gracious about the whole thing.

He offered to come over and check it out, and I figured it couldn't do any harm, so asked him to yes please, please come over, thank you, Daddy.

Fifteen minutes later, he pulls in and we begin our investigation.

We tried every. Switch. In. The. House.

Downstairs and upstairs.

Nothing.

By this point, the light seemed permanently on, so I got the brilliant idea of looking at the alarm panel.

See, there's a button there that said "motion".

I figured that maybe if I cycled through it real quick it'd turn it off.

Right. . . 

So, I push the button.

IT ARMS THE SYSTEM.

Yeah, so at this point, I'm feeling utterly defeated and I tell my dad he can go ahead and go home - I don't know the code because she doesn't use the system.

He says okay, goes through the living room to turn off the lights and-----

Now, I'd like to say I was cool and confident and merely went:

Um, no.

Try this on for size:

Yeah, that was the worst ten minutes of my life.

I tried calling her, texting her, punching in common pass codes.

Nothing.

Did I mention that by this point it was about 2 in the morning?

About five minutes into the alarm going off, I wondered "Where are the cops?" but either way they weren't there, so it didn't matter.

It ended up shutting off on its own, so my dad left through the door that doesn't work anyway.

About two minutes after he left, the house phone rings.

IT'S THE LADY.

I answer, and apologize profusely for waking her up so early.

She too was very gracious about the whole ordeal, but then confessed that she wasn't sure if she knew the code either.

Thankfully, she did.

She asked what had happened, and I told her.

Apparently, that light is just possessed, and there's really nothing that can be done about it.

It was about five minutes into the call that I noticed lights at the back of the house.

No sound, just lights.

And being that I was now basically alone, whomever it was could have just slept there, because as we all know:

Anyway, it turned out to be a cop.

Good thing I was still on the phone with the homeowner -- she got me out of a mountain of trouble.

I never did figure out how he was summoned, exactly.

I don't think it was dispatch.

Must've been a neighbor.

Ha, bet they loved me.

Anyway, after he left, the homeowner and I just kind of stood there in shock.

"How long ago did the alarm go off?"

". . . About 20 minutes ago. . ."

Yeah.

Needless to say, I was basically useless on 4-5 hours of not-so-awesome sleep.

And that is the story of how I awakened a neighborhood and learnt the lesson that if you don't know what it does, don't touch it.

Blessing the Lord

There's this song, you may have heard it, it's called "10,000 Reasons".

I can't remember the first time I heard it, but I remember thinking, "Oh, I should go download this when I get home" because it was a good song and I liked it. 

Well, I forgot to download it.

Naturally.

Well, the next time (of note) that I heard it was at a funeral for a baby.

I was so emotional that I couldn't even sing it.

But I was thinking.

We can't just bless the Lord when we have everything. When everything's nice and sunny. When we have everything we need.

We need to bless Him when He takes gifts away. When He teaches us lessons. When He allows pain in our lives.

Because whoever said "God will never give you more than you can handle" was wrong.

God will never allow you to be tempted beyond what He gives you an escape.

And God gives us more than we can handle to teach us to depend on Him for everything.

And that tender, nurturing love is truly blessable.

Learning to Let Go

Normally, this is the time of year people are flooded with "OMg its like finalzzz peeps so scared lol" posts.

And this is sort of one of them, but not really.

I'm not really worried about finals this semester. I've already done three, and I only have three left, and only two of those are actual tests. 

No, I'm gearing up to learn a really hard lesson that they can't teach you in a classroom.

I'm learning to let go.

I'm not talking about a relationship, though this lesson has infinite applications.

No, for me, it's my GPA.

I'm not bragging here; I'm stating a fact: these past two and a half years, I've earned a 4.0.

And I'm really scared I'm going to lose it.

I know a B and / or a 3.9 is nothing at all to sneeze at.

And I wouldn't be letting anyone down by getting a B.

Except me.

And that's what I'm struggling to let go of.

I don't want that to be my idol.

I don't want that to bug me.

I want to have peace about it.

And I can.

It's just a struggle.

But it's a good struggle to have.

I mean, at the end of my life, God won't be judging me on my grades.

He'll be judging me on how I lived for Him.

And that's worth so much more thought than a GPA that only matters for four years.

Convictions

I've been convicted about something lately.

Okay, well, many somethings, but I'm only going to talk about the one.

We've been going through Romans lately at church, and yesterday in Sunday School, someone taught on accountability. This wasn't the aim of his lesson, but I think it's a good application.

He asked somebody to read part of Romans 12, and as they were, I saw this section:

9 Let love be without hypocrisy. Abhor what is evil; cling to what is good. 10 Be devoted to one another in brotherly love; give preference to one another in honor; 11 not lagging behind in diligence, fervent in spirit, serving the Lord; 12 rejoicing in hope, persevering in tribulation, devoted to prayer, 13 contributing to the needs of the saints, practicing hospitality.

Nope. Not convicting at all. . . 

But here's the big part: "Give preference to one another in honor" (emphasis mine).

Not just "give preference".

"Give preference in honor".

You know what that really means?

It means don't roll your eyes when you let them pick the TV show that night.

Don't mutter under your breath when you clean up behind them.

It generally means don't be spiteful when you let somebody have their way.

Now, I do have to point out that "turning the other cheek" does not mean you have to be a door mat.

Because it doesn't.

But the point still stands.

. . . And the point still pricks. . .

"Come Unto Me"

I just need to post this, both because I need it right now, and I'm sure there are others who could too.

Waiting.

I will be the first to admit it: patience is not one of my strengths.

It's not easy being patient.

And something's occurred to me lately that I thought I should share.

Shouldn't it be (theoretically) easier to be patient on God?

That's not to make Him sound slow or anything, just our perception of time.

I mean, we know He's promised to provide for us.

We know He'll bless us.

And we know He has our best at heart and in mind.

So why are we so antsy?

We know the answer, but just in case you don't want to own to it, I will:

we want what we want when we want it.

I do. And I'll bet you do, too.

And nothing's wrong with wanting something (assuming it's a good thing).

But when we let that get in the way of trusting God, we end up making the thing we want - or sometimes even the wanting itself - an idol.

If God wants us to have it, we'll have it.

If He doesn't, we won't.

Waiting's hard.

I know it is.

But if you're waiting in God's time with a good attitude . . . it'll be worth it.

Always.

What are you waiting for?

Already scared of next semester . . .

I just want to sit down and cry -- I don't know what to do about school. 

I thought I could handle 6 classes in one day and maybe I can . . . But 5 classes in a row? 3 English classes, 2 of which are 400-level? A sociology class, a history class, and a business? 

What the heck was I thinking, signing up for that? Oh . . . I probably wasn't thinking at all.

Come to think of it, I bet I know why this is.

I bet God's teaching me to not procrastinate.

He's teaching me to be diligent.

He's teaching me to take assignments seriously, although I already do. More seriously, I guess.

I just pray I can learn the lessons in time.

700 Calories

I've been trying to lose weight for years. I lose some, then gain some, then lose some more . . . yeah, there's nothing steady about it.
This summer I've lost 10-15 pounds.
As a reward, my mom bought me a betta fish. (You know, the one I almost boiled alive?)
It was really funny, because I picked the fish over a month or two of them paying my car insurance.
And I'm 20.
But anyways, my parents got me a bike for my birthday.
I was so happy.
It's been years since I had a bike.
It's weird though; it's more work now to ride it than it was when I was like, 12.
Oh well.
I've been trying to alternate between biking and walking during the week, and today was one of my walking days.
I use the MapMyRide app on my Blackberry to track how far I go and how long it takes when I ride my bike and when I walk.
(On that note, if you're going to use it while biking, come to a complete stop before stopping the app . . . took an Olympic-worthy tumble learning that lesson.)
I was listening to music today, so I was willing to go a bit farther and faster than I usually would. That, and it was only like, 85-90 degrees this morning instead of 95-100 like it's been lately. Still pretty muggy, though.
Anyhow, I usually go about 3.5-4 miles . . . I looked down on the way back and saw that I had already gone almost 4 miles -- and I was just now turning around!
I ended up going 6.51 miles. It took me about an hour and 15 minutes to do that, but I was pretty proud of myself.
I burned over 675 calories . . . Yay!
Not like I eat a whole lot anyways, but still.
But I did have a Birthday Cake Shake from Zaxby's yesterday.
I might have maybe burned that off . . .

A (Crafty) Lesson Learned . . .

So, I have this shop on Etsy.
And I've been experimenting with different projects.
Well, I haven't taken art in years, but I remember that I can't paint.
I always get way too caught up in the details and don't spend enough time on the big picture.
Well, I decided to give it another shot: I'm making a plaque for this girly that I babysit. 
It's got Psalm 27:1 on it with "Lord" and "light" in pink glow in the dark.
I briefly considered buying a stencil sheet for the lettering, but was all like, "Eh, people love my handwriting; I can totally freehand this!"
Ha.
Again, I say ha. 
NOPE.
I mean, I freehanded(?) it okay, but it looks a bit childish. I suppose that's okay, as it is for a child's room, but . . . I dunno, I had higher hopes for it.
Oh well.
Next time, I'm getting the stencils.
. . .
Ha, who do I think I'm kidding?
No I won't.

Wanna ruin a perfectly good video game?

. . . Then take an art history class.

Seriously.

Point en case.

I love Assassin's Creed (just the first one).

I never really cared about anything in the game except the achievements . . . until I started taking this art history course.

Now, whenever I climb up a column or wall, or see some stinking huge building with all these designs all over them, I find myself analyzing them and placing them into a particular stylistic period.

It's. Awful.

And distracting.

I'm not the only one who feels this way. Caroline does, too. Not about the video games, per se, but she doesn't exactly enjoy AH, either.

Fire Alarms and Beverage Ops

Not to be confused with "Black Ops", which I'm sure is more interesting.

Okay, I'll be honest: I haven't done a fire drill since I was about 7. I only remember that you're not supposed to panic. I had the perfect opportunity to put that to use today.
I was packing up my Shakespeare papers and notebooks - not my actual textbook, though; that 20-pounder won't fit in my giant backpack. Suddenly, there was this high-pitched . . . I dunno, beep / siren type sound and this light started flashing. At first, we were all quite confused, because our professor didn't think there was a drill scheduled for today, but when we saw everyone else going for the stairs, we figured it was probably a good idea to go, too.
The good news is nobody panicked - we calmly stampeded downstairs.
The bad news is that all 200 of us stood outside in the suffocating humidity, holding all of our junk for about 10 minutes wondering if it was a drill, a joke, or the real thing. We were bored. Really bored. 
Finally, some guy came out and told us we could go back in.
No explanation.
Nothing.

Later this afternoon, we learned about beverages of the potentially belligerent nature. You name it, it was mentioned.
I must say now that I don't drink. Most of my friends don't drink. I sat there with this blank stare for 15 minutes before we were done. The professor then proceeded to tell us about all the different ways a bartender could rip off his boss.
It was really interesting.

So, yes, my day was anti-climatic. 

HMESHB - Part I

How My Essay Should Have Been
Part I
Response to "Common Sense"

I'll spare you the somewhat boring details of what I really wrote, but here's what it almost said:

"Thomas Paine's Common Sense inspired Thomas Jefferson to pen the Declaration of Independence, which would later be stolen by Ben F. Gates with the assistance of Riley Poole and Dr. Abigail Chase, to thwart the efforts of Ian Howe."

Dear me . . .
But part of me wonders what would have happened had I actually turned it in like that . . . My professor has a wicked sense of humor; she probably would have loved it!
. . . Or failed me on it.
But still . . .

Looking Back . . .

It's hard to believe that about a year ago today I graduated from high school. I went to my friends' graduation today, and every time one of them stood to speak, I could remember - in startling clarity - what it was like to do the same.
The life-lessons I've learned this past year have been somewhat few, I suppose, but by no means insignificant.
The most important thing I've learned is to really take hold of God's promises. He didn't just say nice things to give us stuff to say to each other when we're going through a tough time; He said them so that we could run to Him for comfort.
1 Peter 5:7 says: "Cast all your cares upon Him, for He cares for you".
This has never been more real to me than through the past year. There were times - and there will be times - when I would cry myself to sleep, wondering how the heck I was going to pass a test, a paper, or merely survive the week. I realized that He was just waiting for me to give him my burdens, and then let them be - - at least for the night. [Obviously, I understand that I have to put in some time and effort, too.]
I just can't explain the peace that I would feel. I'm not a touchy-feely kind of person, and I'm not (generally speaking) subject to much emotion, but this was real. The peace of God really does "transcend all understanding".
I guess what I'm trying to say is this: it's been one heckuva long year, but it's really been worth it. I would not trade anything for the closeness that's been brought to my relationship with Jesus because of this year.
To those who are facing freshman year - tackle it head on! And congratulations to the CBCCA Class of 2011!