Learned Worthlessness

Girls are faced with Hollywood, photoshopped images, magazines, films, all of which pressure them about how they should look, giving them a basis of what women should be in this world.

Girls abuse themselves because they can't meet these standards.They're peer-pressured, socially pressured.

And then there's the girls of my world. We don't need the media or models or the world to tell us how worthless we are or how we don't meet standards when we get it from the one place that's supposed to be a safe place. The one place where we're supposed to learn unconditional love and forgiveness, we learn, instead, worthlessness.

I learned to hate myself in church.

I wasn't raised in an extreme fundamentalist world. I was taught about modesty, forced to give up my shorts once I hit puberty, and never wear clothing that showed off too much of my girlish body. But it wasn't as bad as the pressure on other girls. I had pretty dresses and plenty of jeans and tshirts. I was told I was pretty by my parents.

The trouble was from church, the one place where grace is the message above all messages. Grace! You can have grace! God gives you grace! He loves you even when you don't deserve love! Grace is the ever popular topic. I heard it all, I sang Amazing Grace along with the best of them.

The message that stuck with me, though, wasn't one about safety or grace or forgiveness. It was about me failing. Again. I remember hearing since I was little about how worthless we are without God, how we are as lowly worms in comparison to God's goodness, and without Him, we cannot hope to gain eternal life. It's a message of good news, isn't it? To hear that you can be raised, to be given grace and love from God? 

But what I heard was the constant berating..."You are worthless without God." "You have to humble yourself to be lifted up by God. And to humble yourself means putting all others before yourself. Anything less, and you're failing." And every time I mess up in life, I remember those words: "You are small compared to God. You are worthless without Him. You are but a mere human, and you failed *again*."

I live in a world where girls are expected to be pretty, sweet, skinny, and sexy...but I also live in a Christian world where I am expected to be godly and perfect as well. I am to be a light in this world, and all eyes are on me when I mess up. When I was human and made bad choices, I didn't just mess up. I let Christianity down, I made Christ look bad. I failed. I was worthless.

Churches will get their feathers ruffled up and glare at me in their godly anger, saying that I'm missing their point. Their point of how this worthlessness only exemplifies God's goodness! That it's because of His goodness that we can live our lives for Him.

It doesn't matter. As a girl already feeling uncomfortable in her skin, with the added pressure to be pure, modest, and never a stumbling block to boys, all I heard was the message that I was worthless...I wasn't worthy of love. It didn't matter that I was also told that I don't need to work for God's grace. Every time I messed up, I was reminded of my worthless state and I needed to try harder. The church says I don't need to work for my grace, but their eyes on my every move and their harsh disappointment tells me otherwise. The church took me as a naive, little girl, told me I was worthless, and as soon as it was ingrained in me, they tried to tell me my worthlessness can be taken away. The irony. The church taught me to hate myself and now judge me for doing so.

The pressure is on us girls to be perfect and without blemish. It's the kind of pressure that is on girls all over the world. The world teaches us to hate ourselves in the name of beauty. The church teaches us to hate ourselves in the name of grace.

Girls all over the world look in the mirror and say, "I can never be pretty enough. I'm worthless."

I look in the mirror and I say, "I can never be godly enough. I am worthless."

Life Adventures Pt. 2

When I started 2014 with the goal of becoming more daring, building my courage, refusing to let fear stop me from taking chances, I never once imagined it to be about taking chances with my mind.
Yes, I knew it'd be a mental battle to stop fear from overcrowding my mind. Fear is always a mental battle with me. I am the girl of "what-ifs" and "supposes".

"What if I fail?"Suppose I never recover?""What if this hurts me so much I fall back into depression?""Suppose I give in again?" "What if I give up, will people care?" 

I never once imagined that I could be as daring as I was this year. But I'm starting to see that out of everything it isn't the physical battles that are where I need courage. It's in daring to be myself, daring to love myself, daring to support myself, daring to stand up without falling back onto someone else.
For the longest time, I refused to let people in, stuck on the mindset that it was selfish to ask for help...somehow I was meant to be independent all the time. It took a black, sinking hole of despair to finally ask for help. Ever since, it's been addicting to always have someone to vent to, always have someone to go running to, it's been great to have someone to support me when I'm about to crash. It was so nice that I've put off standing on my own.
Over the summer, I didn't have quite so many crashes...it's easy to be happy and strong in the sunshine, with the boost of confidence given by succeeding in my job. However, when it comes to fall and winter, enclosed indoors and little sunshine and warmth, with the struggles of money and schoolwork, one feels one's confidence swirling down the drain.

I could give in to my fearful mental state, break down, and live each day only by clutching on by my fingertips again. Or I could step away from my crutches, as wonderful and helpful as they are, and dare to support myself. I could be dare to push my mind to be stronger.
Instead of having wonderful people telling me how great I am and can be, I dare to tell myself, "You can do this." I dare to push my mind to face the scary shit and say, "Screw this mindset. I am smart enough. I am good enough. I am worthy."

It's about having the courage to look at myself and see all that I've accomplished.

There's a saying that says, "You are what you think."
So, when I feel like giving up or being lazy, my mind tells me that I'm a lazy person who gives up.
In reality, in spite of these wishes, I still work hard to accomplish what's before me.
So, really, just thinking something doesn't make you whatever that is.
It's also how you act on these thoughts.

I hate working so hard in school and constantly think about just giving up or not doing my best work.
Did you know? I have made President's List three times, Dean's List twice? Did you know that I won Best of Category for my photography in the Spring Exhibit at my old school? Did you know that I won the Award of Excellence? Did you know that at graduation I had a GPA of 3.97? Did you know that because I work hard in building friendships with my kiddos in LEGO club that I'll have kids throwing their arms around me as soon as they come in? Did you know that my kiddos refuse to make funny comics about me because I am, "too nice" to them?

Sometimes I think we take the idea of teaching ourselves not to gloat about our accomplishments too far. Worried of appearing arrogant, we shove aside our victories and forget to understand what they mean. Let's revel in these accomplishments. Let's understand that these things mean that we don't always fail, that we actually do good, that we actually don't always give up, that we do work hard, that we CAN overcome fear and succeed when we try!

My mind is being daring when it says, "Elementary Education is HARD. Harder than anything else you've done in school...but if you can write an A paper in three hours, you can do this test", "Putting yourself out there in a new situation is tough, but if you can jump out of a plane, you can do this", "If you can push yourself to hike up a mountain, you can face new things"...it's being daring enough to believe yourself when you say, "You're stronger than you give yourself credit for." 

Don't just take what your friends say for granted. Look around yourselves...our accomplishments are right there where we left them. Understand them, look at them closely, see what these mean. They mean we are stronger, better, smarter, more driven than we ever actually believe.

C'mon, dare to change your mental traps of fear. Stand on your two feet and dare to be. It's like Bastille says,

"Your albatross, let it go, let it go."

Life Adventures pt. 1

It was January 1st, 2014, 12:01 a.m. I was watching Supernatural, fed up with the world, tired. All I wanted was for it to turn the new year so that I could crawl into bed. And that's what I did. As soon as the fireworks started exploding at the neighbors', I turned off my laptop and went to bed. Before I fell asleep, I promised myself, "That's it. 2014 is going to be a better year. I will be adventurous." 

And I did. I had adventures. I climbed mountains, tried new food, read wonderful books, soaked up sun, reached out to children, jumped out of a plane, and opened myself up to people. I was strengthened, I was empowered, I was incredibly hurt, I was happy, I was invigorated, I was inspired. 

Since the end of summer, I hit a kind of road block. With the end of summer came responsibilities. It meant no more time for all fun adventures...it meant a busier schedule, it meant classes starting, and it meant worries and stress and late nights and being over tired. Fall, in spite of how beautiful it is and how much I love it all, has been bittersweet for me in the last few years. Fall and winter are when I am most strained. I adore my sunshine and warmth, which I am deprived of throughout fall and winter. I struggle against the worries of money, work, and school. I struggle with the old me...it's hard to shrug off the worries when they come out in hundred-fold, desperate to land on your shoulders again. When you have lived in fear just once, it is ten times easier to give into the fear again. Part of me so desperately wants to give in...it's tiring to battle all the time. 

Then in my mind I tasted the colors of giving in. The greys, the dullness, the metallic flavor of despair. I could see the heavy doors, open but ready to slam shut against hope as soon as I stepped through them. Instead of the neon Exit sign above them, Fear was written. Is fear really how I want to live? 

I texted someone, wanting something to lean on instead of balancing myself. The response I got hit my mind, the words emblazoned.

"You're stronger than you give yourself credit for." 

It's one thing to have someone hold you up, but if you cannot train yourself to stand up on your own, you will never be able to walk. I want to be fearless. And it hit me that just because summer is over doesn't mean the adventures have stopped. They may not be as interesting or fun, but adventures are the things that test you, push you. Summer was for the physical adventures, fall is for the mental ones. Because it is my mind that needs to be daring now.

To be continued...

Apple Pie of My Eye

My mom makes this Apple Crumb Pie that is pretty spectacular...the best kind of buttery-cinnamony goodness topping, but, in my opinion, nothing beats a two crust pie.

After our trip to the apple orchard, it was time to pull out my own baking skills to make what I consider to be one hell of a great pie.

Cooked to perfection, I add just a bit more cinnamon than the recipe calls for and bake only til the crust is the perfect kind of flakiness.
Want to try your own hand at it?

Better Homes and Gardens Plain Pastry Crust
 For two single-crusts

2 cups sifted all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon salt
2/3 cup shortening
5 to 7 tablespoons cold water

Sift flour and salt together.
Cut in shortening with fork until pieces are the size of small peas.
Sprinkle in a tablespoon of water a time, tossing mixture with fork, adding a tablespoon at a time to mixture until dough forms into ball.

Cut dough in half, roll each half into pie crust form until both fit pie plate.


Better Homes and Gardens Apple Crumb Pie (minus the Crumb topping)

                                                        2/3 cup sugar

2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
3/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon
            6 to 8 apples, pared, cored and sliced.

         Combine first 3 ingredients; stir into apples.
            Line 9-inch pie plate with pastry. Fill with apple mixture.
               Adjust top crust, cutting slits for escape of steam; seal.
             Bake at 400* for 45-50 minutes or till done.


And the result is this heavenly piece of perfection!

New England in the Fall

Just as Lorelai Gilmore raves about her first snow of the season, I feel a special sensation about the beginning of our wondrous New England autumns.

It's the kind of weather that makes you pull out the plaid flannel, cups of tea, go apple picking, exchange the shorts with skinny jeans, and, of course, watch Gilmore Girls.

I always think of fall as starting with the first day of school, but it doesn't truly feel like fall until the first apple picking excursion. The family piles into the van (which has shrinked in considerable size over the years) and drives the 5 minutes to the apple orchard that we've visited ever since I was a little kiddo myself. It's interesting to note the changes that have sprung up at the farm over the years, but also to see how it really hasn't changed and being able to share the same kind of experience with my lil punk of a sis. It doesn't matter that it's an expensive visit...in a way, it's worth the picturesque experience.

Apple soda makes you feel so grown up, even if it doesn't taste quite as good as it would seem. 

It's hard to remember there's a world outside to enjoy when you start to become consumed with homework. It sometimes takes effort to stop, look up and see that autumn doesn't change in its beauty. For once it feels like the world has the chance to stop and see into the mind of a synesthete. The colors surround you, even in the shade of light that is starting to cool in color this time of year. You won't be disappointed with the wispy blues, vivid reds, and fading greens. 

So here's a little piece of advice from me to you:

1. Travel to New England in autumn
2. Stop and look at the sky once in a while
3. Take a selfie, let the world mock what it will.
4. Pick an apple
5. Watch some Gilmore Girls.

Guaranteed to make your life better. 

And a happy autumn to you too! 

Adventures

I was determined to make this year a better year.

My year started out with the huge decision of deciding what would be my next step.

Should I find a full time job? Should I continue on in school?

If I do go back to school, what do I major in?

All these questions required answers, none of which were easy to make.

Having made the decision to go back to school to acquire a Bachelors in Elementary Education, 

I suddenly realized that I'll have spent the majority of my 20s pushing myself to the limit and killing myself

over school. It's not the life I wanted. I don't want to look back on my 20s and see that the only accomplishments I made were in school. I don't want to look back and grimace at my 20s.

I don't want my life to be just about school. I want to live.

2014...a brand new year, brimming with possibilities, and welcoming us with the fresh pages of ideas and activities and newness to fulfill. I didn't want to waste this year, this opportunity.

Adventures...it's what I wanted, and it's what I've been accomplishing.

I wanted to see new places, so I took up hiking. 3 mountains down, how many more to go??

I wanted to push myself, so I tried rock climbing & discovered the wonderful puzzle it is, both mentally and physically.

I wanted to fly, so I went skydiving.

It's only June and here I am filling my days to the overflow! I feel alive, I feel adventurous, I feel happy...I feel real. But what I've learned is that adventures don't come to you...you have to pursue them, you have to push for them, you have to *find* them. And adventures aren't easy -- nor should they be! Adventures are simply that, adventures, because they aren't easy! It isn't just the satisfaction you get from accomplishing something that makes it an adventure, it is the process, the hard work, the energy, the sweat that makes it the adventure. I'm pushing myself and I love it. Suddenly I'm seeing myself as a totally different person. It's 2014 and all about the adventures.

What adventures are you seeking?

Only Human

I covered it's been hard for me to embrace who I really am. In fact, I think I should admit that I still have no bloody idea who I am exactly. I'm attempting to discover myself, the person, the girl I am deep underneath the layers and layers of nature and nurturing I've acquired over the years of my life. Asking the questions, 

"Is this really me? Or is it a remnant of who they wanted me to be?" 

"Do I really think like this, or is this left-over from the fake me?" 

"What *is* my style?" 

"What do I think genuinely about this?" 

I find myself wondering who the hell I really am. I attempt to extend myself grace as I learn the little things about myself. I attempt (and fail) to love myself. As I ask these questions, however, I sometimes forget that this self-discovery is just not that: self-discovery. It is more. It is the discovery of who I am to the world as well. It is the discovery of who I am to other people while finding myself.

Am I the girl who loves herself only to forget to extend that love to others? Or does it make me more susceptible to extend grace and love? I find myself struggling to take in grace and to give it.

I am harsh with myself, loathing of all the negative qualities that seem to consume my life. But not

only that but I am also not as giving as I could be when it comes to others and the negativity I face 

from them. 

I think of my best friend and the qualities about her very self that tend to rub me the wrong way. There's nothing wrong persay with what she does, but it annoys me and as a result I look at these actions as offensive, my sensitive mind glaring at her because she's late and I'm early, she's stubborn in the moments

where I am not and I am stubborn where she is not. You'd think we balance each other out quite nicely, and we do. Normally I just smile and roll my eyes because we are best friends and that's just what best friends do. We irritate each other. 

However there are the days where I am just not easily amused and want to speak harshly.

And while I don't, because I'd feel much too guilty to say anything, I do tend to lock these feelings up inside, harboring them. What good is there in harboring feelings? When, one day, I was faced with a sudden realization that I was the one being completely unreasonable and selfish in my expectations of those who surround me in life. 

I was reading John Green's Paper Towns. And a friend of the main character says to him: 

“You know your problem, Quentin? You keep expecting people not to be themselves. I mean, I could hate you for being massively unpunctual and for never being interested in anything other than Margo Roth Spiegelman, and for, like, never asking me about how it's going with my girlfriend - but I don't give a shit, man, because you're you. My parents have a shit ton of black Santas, but that's okay. They're them. I'm too obsessed with a reference website to answer my phone sometimes when my friends call, or my girlfriend. That's okay, too. That's me. You like me anyway. And I like you. You're funny, and you're smart, and you may show up late, but you always show up eventually.” 

This is my problem. I keep expecting people to not be themselves.

How can I expect the world to accept me, the real me when I am unable to accept others for who they are? 

Real acceptance isn't about embracing the likable parts. It isn't about accepting the bits we like about each other. It is about accepting each other as wholes. Not a part of me, not a part of you, not halves, not pieces: all of each other. Taking the good with the bad, extending grace to one another for the screw-ups, showing forgiveness for the hurts, acting kindness for the mistakes, and above all being loving through the moments when we least feel like it. 

I have written on my hand, "Only Human", because I am that obnoxious girl who writes on her hands.

But also because it is the reminder I needed this week. The reminder that I am only human not only as I struggle to find and understand myself, but also as I learn to grow and live with those around me. I want to remember that not only am I human, but so is the rest of the world. I do not live in a bubble, I do not live alone, nor do I want to be alone. And because of this fact, I want to remember that those around me?
They are only human too.

Your Words Mean Nothing To Us

The thing about Facebook is that you cannot escape all the people posting things in your newsfeed, and reposting them. I've seen the same video pop into my newsfeed 9 times in one day. The same kind of status pop up 3 times in a row. One on top of each other.

And I have a wide variety of friends, half of whom would post an article to say, "LOOK! This is so GREAT!" while the other half was posting it saying, "I'm so DISGUSTED!" It can be very amusing.

However, today, there popped up into my newsfeed one article that has inspired quite a few debates, and I am here to post my personal concerns and opinions and ideas about it all.

It all started on this blog of some young, Christian guy, who was writing in the form of a letter to his future, unknown wife. Read here.

I found so many issues with this letter, including:

• Girls should not be just sitting, waiting around for a Prince Charming to show up...our lives shouldn't revolve around being found by and marrying some guy!...
• I want to see the day a good-looking guy who actually acts upon his words of "it doesn't matter what you look like, you're already beautiful because God made you" by not ignoring and walking past the over-weight or acne-prone girls. 
• Girls' bodies are *not* goodies. We are not objects to be compared to a treasured or favorite car. I dress the way I dress not because I'm dressing for my future husband, but for myself. Because I am a Christian young woman I serve God and as a result of that, I respect myself and I honor Him. I dress how I feel comfortable. Simple as that. My body is my own. It is not some unknown man's. If a man struggles with how I dress, it is on his shoulders to take care of his own feelings and thoughts. I am not placed on earth to meet each individual man's struggles. 

The young man ends his letter with the following, 

"I understand I might have written this a little late, but I don’t care who you were yesterday, I care who you are today and who you will be tomorrow.  Make a change if you need to.  Let us grow together.  It is not too late.  It doesn’t matter what you’ve done or how many of these items you have missed, it just matters what you are going to do now!  You are beautifully and wonderfully made by the hands of a perfect Creator, live like it!"

My question is this: if it doesn't matter, then why also say,  "I’ll say that again, your goodies are always going to be good.  But, if everyone and my mom has a look at everything you’re showing off, I’m not feeling like as much of a lucky ducky.  So please, for me, keep your goodies packaged away."

Obviously, it does matter to him.

All of this aside. Yes, yes, I mean that: all of this aside...I want to get to the main point of my post.

Guys telling us we're beautiful. It's all well and good to tell us we're beautiful and that we're made in God's image. But I'm going to tell you right now. We're not going to believe you.

The thing about beauty and telling a girl she's beautiful and a letter like this is that guys are trying to convince us we're beautiful. If you think about the One Direction song, "What Makes You Beautiful" ...movie messages, book messages...all of which there are guys singing, saying, telling us girls that we're beautiful. Guys are trying to convince us that we're beautiful and that we don't need makeup and that who we are is enough. But. We still don't believe you. 

It's not exactly your fault, guys, though I will put a tiny bit of the blame on you. Guys, you tell us we're beautiful the way we are, to not cover up in makeup, to not care about how we dress...but the thing is, there is the sting when we try to believe your words and the guys still keep walking past us. So, forgive us if we don't believe your empty words.

What I believe is the most damaging message of all in this young man's blogpost and the dozens upon dozens...hundreds, even!...of blogposts and articles that spout the exact same thing, is this: men are telling us how to be beautiful. They are telling us how to live, how to BE women that will most attract Christian, godly men. But: our worth does not come from men. No matter what men tell us, we will never be content with it. It is one thing to be told we're beautiful and another to believe it. When a guy tells us we're beautiful, it's sweet and wonderful in the moment. But that's all it is: a moment.

Girls: it is wonderful when guys tell us we're beautiful. I know that special tingly, warm feeling we get when we receive compliments. But unless we truly believe it about ourselves, we will never be content. We will always be seeking for that contentment and fighting against the emptiness of feeling inadequate and not pretty enough. It's about self-worth and self-esteem. This idea of being a princess stuck in a tower, waiting, bases our self-worth and our happiness on someone else...on a guy. But here's the catch: guys are just as human as we are. And they cannot make us happy every minute of every day. A mere guy cannot make us worthy. I've been learning exactly how much I base my self-esteem on how others esteem me. But the fact remains, that once the compliments are gone, the briefest of moments where the spotlight is on me, then I feel just as empty as I did before. This is because I don't believe in myself and I do not think of myself as worthy unless others notice me. I am learning that to embrace who I really am, to accept how I look, I have to build my self-respect. Instead of being a door-mat allowing people to walk all over me, I am learning that I am worthy of happiness and respect from others without asking for it from them, without catering toward them. Author Nathaniel Branden of Six Pillars of Self-Esteem writes, "It is the conviction that our life and well-being are worthwhile and deserving of the respect of others; and that our happiness and personal fulfillment are important enough to work for." 

I am not going to tell you how to acquire self-esteem. I can't address the issues in your lives, girls. I can only look into my own life and see where I allow a low self-esteem to drag me down. I am learning to embrace the fact that I have a tiny yet tall body which makes it difficult to dress. I am learning to love the fact that my hair is curly and has a mind of its own. I am learning that it's okay to have days where I don't like my curly hair and to tame it's wildness by straightening it to a silky smoothness. I like my hair both ways. Not because some guy told me it was pretty, not because my friends told me that I look better with my hair curly. I like it both ways because of how both ways make me feel. I wear skinny jeans that show off my butt to its best advantage, not because I want to attract guys' attention but simply because I like how it looks, how it makes me feel. I wear makeup and I love it. I like the smoother appearance of my face when I cover up blemishes. I like the way my eyes are emphasized when I throw on the tiniest bit of liner and mascara. This isn't me not accepting how I was made...it is me making the most of how I was made and feeling beautiful in who I am. I am not changing my body...I am enhancing it.  It makes me confident and happy with my body, with how I was made. It is me accepting my body shape without having anyone tell me I look good.

Self-esteem, girls, it's important. More important than sitting around, waiting for guys to come along and finally tell us we're beautiful in their eyes after having one or two or a hundred guys just walk right past us.
Every guy may not think I'm beautiful, but I am learning to be happy with who I am, and how I look because I am building my self-esteem.


Guys, I am not here to tell you to stop telling us beautiful. But I am. Confusing? Let me explain. Do, do tell us we're beautiful. But do not tell us HOW to be beautiful. Do not come to me and say, "You are beautiful as you are, with the body God gave you, you don't need to wear makeup" then proceed to swagger right past me to flirt with the prettier girls. Guys, your words mean nothing to me. It is like Eliza Doolittle of My Fair Lady says, "Show Me". Your words are empty without actions. Guys, don't tell me I'm beautiful then proceed further into your blogpost by telling me how I need to be, what I need to do, and who I should be in order to be worthy of your love and attention. I am worthy without your opinion, attention, or words.

Guys, if you want me to believe you when you say I'm beautiful, show me by respecting me, including every life decision I make, including the way I act, speak, and dress. Give me the respect I deserve as a person, by not comparing me to a car, by not treating my body as an object and labeling it as goodies. Guys, if you want me to believe you when you say I'm beautiful, don't talk down to me, don't stuff me into a box and tell me to wait for you. I am a person, not your object. I am worthy to go out into this world and do something and not make you the center of my universe. Guys, if you want me to fall for you, don't tell me that the sole purpose of my life is you. Remember this, guys, the next time you're tempted to write a letter to your future wife: your words mean nothing to us.

Living Life...

One could always come up with some perfectly adequate excuses for not having kept up with blogging...
one could say, "I've been swamped at work..."
one could say, "I've been dealing with family stuff..."
one could say, "I've been in the hospital. Dying."
one could say, "An alligator bit off my right hand..."
one could say, "I lost the password to my blog..."

Wait, let's go back to the alligator one. It's much more interesting. But if we're going to be completely honest with each other, I've simply been lazy. I really have no legitimate excuse, as I work part-time and have plenty of time to keep up with updating my blog.

Would some photos make up for the absence of newsiness? Yes? Okay, let's start with the prettiness.

In spite of the laziness of my life, I've filled my time with the little things of life that keep you occupied. Nothing particularly worth while to creating change in the world but little things that make your heart happy, boost your esteem, and fill your soul with vanilla-pudding kind of peace. (Smooth and creamy...now I'm hungry.)

Those little moments that we so often just glide by without even a second glance. Little moments of magic, moments that if we just stop long enough to capture with a capture, we'll see just how beautiful they are. This is my life at the moment...because in spite of going crazy with no school and only a part-time job to keep me occupied, I am also distracted by the little, good moments.

I'm taken back in time with the dance of a pen in my hand as it begins a letter with, "Dear Rose..." and the up and down loops of f's and g's and y's in my cursive. It's an old and well-loved motion, a piece of my life on a piece of paper. Enclosed in its envelope home, it'll fly it's merry way across waters to reach it's new destination. Magic. 

There's the moments where you come home and you hesitate over a book or a movie. But then your soul decides it needs some uplifting...no, it needs some spilling. And you let it pour out of you as music floods your soul and words drift onto the page of your journal. Sometimes it means exclamation points, italics as only a very Emily Starr soul can understand, and sometimes it means words all in caps and illustrations and word circles. Sometimes it means an EXPLOSION of words. From the comfort of your bed, from the vividness of your mind...you treat your soul to word therapy and you realize what this is. Magic. 

There are mornings when you drown yourself in cup after cup of tea, and you let yourself sink into the energy that flies from your fingertips. The snap of the shutter, the whir of the photos uploading onto your laptop. The excited breathing as you click through each photo, looking for the gem you made through a lens.
The excitement of multitasking as your fingers quickly ease over the keys, editing each photo, tweaking it just a skosh (Skosh: a form of measurement) to perfection, and figuring out your schedule. Making your photos while you cross each day that has slipped by, realizing you've not even come close to capturing enough of the moments in your life as each day goes hopping by. Magic. 

I may give in to my laziness of avoiding posting on my blog, but this doesn't mean I'm just letting my life slip by unnoticed or unappreciated. I am filled with love for these beautiful moments that I'm too lazy to always capture on my blog. Mugs of coffee, cups of tea, random photo shoots, music blaring, journal-, letter-, and novel-writing, spontaneous dance and tea parties with little sisters, movie nights with besties...I am living life and I am loving all these little moments of magic. 

The Traveling Girl vs. The Quiet Girl?

There's been a rush of popular blogposts floating around on my facebook newsfeed about dating or not dating a girl who travels. Friends have been raving and promoting these blogposts and after a discussion with friends, I feel compelled to write my own blogpost.

Don't Date a Girl Who Travels

Date a Girl Who Travels

I've always wanted to travel. I've had the green monster of envy as I watch my friends, even siblings get to see places I've always dreamed of seeing. I sigh with jealousy and daydreams as I go through the photo albums of people's journeys. It's not about hating those who travel, in fact, I envy them!

But.

I am not a fan of these kind of blogposts because while some can take them light-heartedly, and say how it's "so true!" and "this is me!", I don't see a message of light-hearted fun. I see a message promoting one kind of girl above all others. Let's take a look.

I find that these kind of articles imply that dating any other girl beside a "Traveling Girl" is lame, that the "Traveling Girl" is the *perfect* girl to date because she is adventurous, non-superficial, doesn't care about things like: shopping, or wasting money on things when you could use it to travel, and is also the prettiest, because she's interesting, and doesn't waste time over her appearance. Bottom line: a girl who travels is: more fun, more simplistic in life, more adventurous, prettier, independent: she is worthier of respect. she is worthier of attention. she is more FUN.

Maybe I'm over-reacting to these articles, but coming from a girl who has been faced with so many guys who only want to date a "spontaneous/adventurous" girl, I find myself frustrated. "Fun" girls are so highly promoted today, and "fun" = daring, spontaneous, thrill-seeker, active girls. The girl that can go stride-in-stride with a guy on EVERY physical activity that he does.

Don't get me wrong, I'm all for girls being free to pursue all the activities that a guy does. I don't like the idea, however, that a girl who doesn't pursue these kind of activities is less than those who do.

I am not spontaneous. I am a planner. I don't roll easily with the punches. I like staying home a lot, I like having a dependable job. We girls who aren't adventurous or thrill-seekers don't expect to be treated as glass dolls. Not all of us are superficial just because we don't like cliff-jumping. I don't expect expensive gifts. I don't like getting lost, so sue me. It doesn't make me a fun-hater, it just means I have a different idea of fun. Being something different than spontaneous is not a bad thing.

Let's take a look at what these articles say about "Traveling Girls"...

Chances are, she can’t hold a steady job. Or she’s probably daydreaming about quitting. She doesn’t want to keep working her ass off for someone else’s dream. She has her own and is working towards it. She is a freelancer. She makes money from designing, writing, photography or something that requires creativity and imagination. Don’t waste her time complaining about your boring job.

When I read this, my eyebrows raised. Why is stability, dependability, and hard work seen as a bad thing? How is not being able to hold a steady job a good thing? Why is working under someone suddenly not working your own dream? If I one day get a job as a photojournalist, I'll be working for someone, but I'll also be doing something that I hope is something good in the world, and that is my dream.
And since when is working a job outside of writing, photography, or designing...a non-creative job...so bad? If someone didn't do those jobs, where would we be? Those airlines a traveling girl rides? Be thankful, traveling girls, that the world doesn't all think and act like you. We Quiet Girls can also be travelers. Perhaps it's not our living, it's not our whole life, but we dream of adventures in far-off lands. Sometimes we even fulfill those dreams. So we have our maps and our schedules and plans, but it doesn't make it less adventurous or fun for us. Just the traveling alone is an adventure. So we don't jump off cliffs or hike up every mountain. It doesn't make us less fun or interesting. We find just as much activity in learning new skills and exploring libraries and museums. We aren't less creative, we love photography and writing just as much as the next person. We just find our adventures in different ways. Perhaps we even attempt the same kind of activities but in a slower, more planned manner. It just means we're cautious and careful, not boring. Don't turn your nose up at the rest of us.

Waste her time complaining about our boring jobs? She sounds like a supportive, understanding friend. Not all of us have the luxury of doing whatever we want or working the dream job/living the dream life.

Don’t date a girl who travels as she tends to speak her mind. She will never try to impress your parents or friends. She knows respect, but isn’t afraid to hold a debate about global issues or social responsibility. 

I'm a planner. I'm more at home than anywhere else. I speak my mind. It's not just the Traveling Girl who has opinions and voices them.

She will never need you. She knows how to pitch a tent and screw her own fins without your help. She cooks well and doesn’t need you to pay for her meals. She is too independent and wont care whether you travel with her or not. She will forget to check in with you when she arrives at her destination. She’s busy living in the present. She talks to strangers. She will meet many interesting, like-minded people from around the world who share her passion and dreams. She will be bored with you. 

Some of us like being needed. It's not a bad thing. It doesn't make us less independent. We may not need you, and yes, we know how to do things on our own. But some of us, some of us like the company of doing it together, working as a team. We are considerate of those around us, willing to take the moment to ease someone's mind about our well-being and where we are. We will meet many interesting people, as well, and we will enjoy talking to them one and all, no matter if they travel or not.

This is not about putting down the Traveler Girl. Traveling Girls, embrace your life, LOVE it, share it with me, tell me about your travels, show me your pictures. I love hearing your stories. Don't settle with a quiet, non-spontaneous man. But don't put him down. Don't put down the quiet, non-spontaneous girls. There's no reason to be snobby or feel defensive about your lifestyle. There's no reason for either side to put anyone down!

Men, we quiet girls may not be adventurous our spontaneous or a thrill-seeker. But we are dreamers, we are intellectuals, we are loyal and dependable, we are responsible, we are hard-working, we are accepting...just as beautiful and strong and courageous as Traveling Girls. If you're looking for adventurous girls, maybe we're not the ones for you. But don't put us down because we're not. It doesn't make us less worthy, only different. And different? It's not so bad.   Traveling Girls, Quiet Girls...we're all fabulous, just in our each, individual way. And my response to these articles?

Traveling Girls are awesome. But so are Quiet Girls. It's not a case of who's better than who, Traveling Girl versus Quiet Girl. Neither one is better than the other.

Photography Journey: Part 4

Photography Journey: 2008-2014

2008:

2008: one of the first photos I ever took with my new camera. 

2008: Portraits were fun!

2008: Juji as a baby was a popular subject.


2009

2009: blurry is artsy!

2009: New Hampshire is just naturally beautiful!

2010:

2010: One of my first gigs: shooting my cousin's Senior Portraits!

2010: Another Senior Portrait session!

2011:

2011: Engagements were awesome fun to shoot!

2011: A lil bokeh, a heart...how cliche can I get? 

2012:

2012: Balloons! This was the year all about COLOR!

2012: Have I mentioned how much I *love* engagements?

2012: Piano & color, two of my fallbacks for school assignments!

2012: The portrait that won me Best of Category in the Spring Exhibit!

2013:

2013: Engagement Ring

2013: Freedom From Fear - a school project.

2013: Freedom of Worship - a school project.

2013: Books are magical

2014:

2014: Self-portrait

2014: Tea cups are my thing.

I kinda chuckle as I look back over the years and see how my photography was so horrible when I first started out. But then I also smile and feel a sense of accomplishment as I see how far I've come as well.
It's been one hell of a journey and I've grown! I love that. I love the looking back and seeing how
I've changed and how my photography has changed. I love seeing my techniques expand and

change as the years go by. It's only been 6 years (only??) but I'm excited to see where my 

photography takes me in the next 6 years. 

Photography Journey: Part 3.

My second semester was an improvement over the first, mostly because I was more in-depth in my photography classes, surrounded by other photographer-wanna-bes, and finally feeling like I was being initiated into that club I so wanted to be a part of. That second semester, I made friends, slowly and quietly found myself entering a small group within the photography classes where inside jokes were born and where we all worked hard alongside each other, the competition absent and instead a sense of encouragement for one another and acceptance. We didn't see each other as "the competition"...we were in it together, we were friends. It made school so much more bearable.

The classes weren't easier or the work load smaller, but working with others made it easier in a way.
And I threw myself into my photography classes. They only reassured me that I was where I was supposed to be. I loved every part of it (except perhaps those damn tool caddy assignments!).
The more I learned, the more I became part of that club. My first class in-studio was
extremely intimidating. The more advanced students knew wherever went, and how to set everything up, while I stood to the side, helpless and feeling very much the part of a newbie. But I also remember the semester where I, too, walked into that studio, the pro. As my friend Kate stated, "For once we're the pros and not the newbies..." Such a good feeling, let me tell you!

2012: we weren't competitors. We were friends.

School still wasn't without its share of tears. The studying was a killer. Late nights...the night I sat up until 3am, bawling over math because I had a test the next day...the headaches, migraines over studying....the notes galore, the photos I snapped...it all went into the days of school.

Along came my required Business class. I went into it still determined to have my own photography business one day. Then the class came and smacked me across the face. Who knew that to run one's own business, one has to devote 99% of her time to business and only 1% to photography in order to be successful? While some can be passionate about both photography and business and easily combine them, I just cannot. Business is NOT a passion and I decided there was no way I could start my own business. Perfect. I knew I loved photography but now I had no idea what I wanted to do, outside of perhaps work in a studio. The class made me question my priorities...did I love photography enough? I did, it turned out.

I entered 2 photographs into the Spring Exhibit at my school and one of my photos was chosen to hang in the exhibit. I was *thrilled*. Imagine my nervousness as I sat in the school cafeteria for the honor's night. One photo from the exhibit would be chosen as Best of Category. Would mine make 2nd place? I sat, surrounded by my family, barely noticing all the other awards being handed out for all the graphic design categories. Finally it was time. I heard my name. I heard the applause. I saw the blur of people and the floor and the walls as I got up and walked to the front. My photography teacher stood there, his hand outstretched and a grin on his face as he shook my hand and handed me the certificate.

For the first time in my life, I was proud of me. 

For my last semester, instead of taking just my last, four, required classes I decided to add a fifth class: photojournalism. Just as my first semester was hell, so was my last one in a way. Between the mixture of tough classes, confusing teachers, and mix-ups involving my classes and graduation, I found myself feeling very discouraged. On top of that, all the friends I'd made had graduated with their certificates in Photography the prior semester. I told a friend, "School can't let me leave without a fight." This past fall was difficult. I studied my butt off, feeling like it was never enough. Still feeling like a failure even though I hadn't acquired a grade lower than an A- in the past. My GPA was high, and yet I still felt like I had to fight to accomplish anything. The last 6 weeks of classes felt like they dragged on forever. And then finals came. And then. They were over. Time has sped by since then. And then, the other day the mailman dropped a white, thick envelope in the mail. I ripped it open and pulled out that little black book with the tiny piece of paper inside.

I did it. Two and half years of tears, fears, heartaches, headaches, constant tiredness, struggling, fighting, killing myself, feeling like a failure...and a tiny piece of paper saying it was all worth it. I'm not a failure. I accomplished something. I did this. I DID this. In spite of everything, in spite of the times where I felt like I couldn't, the times where I felt worthless and felt like giving up...there's a tiny piece of paper saying that I made it and that I did well. A friend asked me, "How do you feel to be DONE?" It feels...weird. It feels...great. But on one hand, it feels like...it's not done...it feels like just one step up a staircase. It just means I'm facing the next step. But I'm not worrying about that now. I'm taking delight in the fact that I'm done! I'm graduated! I've finished this chapter!

I did it.