All the Single Ladies

Alright, this topic has been on my heart for awhile now. More and more, I am seeing how much emphasis we, as ladies, place on having a significant other, on acquiring that dream boyfriend, on building that magical world of love and endless happiness. Ah, the beautiful fantasy of it all. And I'm not condemning that in the least bit. Honestly, have at it. But I fear that all too often it becomes a consuming thing for us. I mean, I myself cannot be excluded from this. After all, there I was, thinking, "Wow, it's kind of disgusting how desperate some people are," and then I realized that the same thing was becoming true within my own life. Now, I will openly say that I have never had a boyfriend. How sad is that, right? I should be given the rights to the title of "most desperate of them all" if we're being realistic here.

But it's really not that sad. You see, it definitely could be. I could sit and sulk over the fact that I've never experienced that sort of love or that sort of relationship. I could wallow in the ever-popular "woe-is-me." I could be a bitter love-Scrooge. And I'll admit that I was for a time. It's so unbelievably easy to fall into this trap. You know, you see a couple on the street and you literally gag in your mouth because PDA would be more accurately named PDG. Public display of grossness. You are forever wondering what everyone else has that you don't. And then you even begin to entertain the thought of lowering your standards to the lowest of the low, just to avoid the forever-dreaded spinster fate. Wow, that is seriously a lot to take in.

Chances are, you've had some of these thoughts or worries or anxieties. And trust me, it's okay. It's normal. It's human. But just because it's human doesn't mean we should give it free reign on our lives. Yeah, falling in love & all that jazz is grand. But it's not our sole purpose for being on this earth. Thank the Lord it isn't. Believe it or not, it's possible to live a euphoric, fulfilled life without perpetually having a man by your side. Wait, that was super harsh. I'm not anti-men, seriously. They're awesome. But I think we let them control our lives a bit too much. It's not necessarily their fault most of the time. Oftentimes, it's the result of our own obsessive or insecure behaviors.

Yet, it's so easy to conform to this method of seeking satisfaction from romantic relationships, of finally finding someone you can see yourself being with. Gosh, I remember the days when texting conversations could literally make or break my night. If the person doesn't respond in the way you would like or doesn't respond at all for that matter, it's not a fun thing. And it's our natural inclination to go, "Shoot. What have I done? He hates me; I just know it. I'm a good-for-nothing loser. Bring on the empty house & the infinite amount of cats." Perhaps for some, it's not quite this extreme. But admit it, there's been at least one point in your life where your happiness for that day rested entirely in the hands of some guy. And for awhile, I guess that can be fun. But we end up falling into this routine, often without even noticing. We are at our best when the relationship is at its best. But when the relationship struggles, it's safe to say we'll be out of commission for at least a day or so.

However, this is absolutely no way to live. We're putting our faith in all the wrong things here. We're resting our hopes on finite, earthly love, that whether we choose to believe it or not, will fail us at some point or another. But the love of our Father God does no such thing. His love is satisfying and prevailing and worthwhile and ceaseless and beyond all bounds and outside the realm of human reason. And let me tell you, I have never been so blessed to experience something that I don't understand. What a joy it is to know for a fact that the perfect love of Jesus Christ drives out all fear, all worries, all anxieties. Yes, even the great uncertainty that surrounds the human love of this world. He is bigger than that; He is better than that; He is greater than that; He is truer than that; He is more majestic and fulfilling and consuming than that. If you let Him be.

I am in no way proclaiming that I am against or above all things love. Nah, not at all. Love can be an incredibly wonderful thing. I see examples of that each and every day, whether it's through the selfless love my parents have for one another or through seeing couples bridge the distance that college has created. Yes; it's most definitely an extraordinary gift that we, as humans, have been given. But we mustn't forget the greatest love story of all time in the process. To know you are crazily and endlessly and recklessly loved by your Savior is the most exquisite realization this world has to offer. A perfect Savior. A perfect love. The kind that drives out every last bit of fear.

I don't know about you, but for now, that is surely enough for me. He's got my future under control. If falling in love is a part of it, then so be it. If it's not, then so be it. In Him, in Him alone, I am completely, entirely, fully, unmitigatedly satisfied.

Two Weeks Notice

On December 2 of this year, my older sister Kari, the straight-up gem in this photo above, will be returning from Rwanda for the first time since September 12, 2011. Let's put that into perspective here. When she left, I had just begun my junior year of high school, and now I am halfway through my freshman year of college, and wow, that's just so strange for me to contemplate. You see, she became a member of the Peace Corps in the fall following her graduation from college and has been teaching at an all-girls Catholic boarding school in the small African country of Rwanda for the past two years. Her time there has most assuredly been far from easy or comfortable, and she has been exposed to countless crazy and eye-opening cultural experiences. Yet, through it all, she has developed a myriad of relationships and connections, some of which will certainly be lifelong. That's the thing about my sister: she can be thrown into almost any situation - in almost any place on this vast earth - and she learns how to thrive. She just goes with it. It's an undeniably difficult feat, but time and time again, Kari manages to bring life to places which very few would even venture to in the first place.

And just two short weeks from today, for the first time in twenty-seven months, I will be able to see my sister face to face. And to say I am stoked beyond belief would be the understatement of the century. I mean, it's such an inconceivable thing to me, so much so that I almost cannot bear to stop talking about it. So, my apologies to the cashier at the store who heard a brief synopsis of Kari's Rwandan life as I was checking out my groceries and to Rosemary the lunch lady for holding up the line while I was rambling on about my excitement and to the kid at the gym this morning who was probably trying to concentrate on his workout. But wait, I'm not actually sorry. For in just fourteen days, one of my best friends and one of my most faithful and constant life examples will be home. Gosh, is God ever good or is God ever good? 

But all of this got me thinking. What an absolute treasure loved ones are! They're seriously so great. But how often do we treat them in the exact opposite manner, as though they're a fact of life and nothing more, as though they're not worth the added effort because they'll just always be around? Come on, we all do it. But as of late, this mentality has become so utterly gross to me. Because it doesn't have to be this way and shouldn't be this way. We should be so lost in gratitude and compassion for our loved ones - and human beings in general - that it becomes second nature to cherish and savor every glorious moment that we have with them. And what better time to instill this habit than around Thanksgiving?

Yes indeed. Be thankful. Be thankful for family. Be thankful for friends. Be thankful for each and every beautiful person who touches your life. And quit being bored and expectant. Every encounter with those you love should be a precious gift, whether you've been apart for two hours or two years. Be forever eager to love on these people. Love them with all of your might.

P.S. Shout out to my sister Kari. It's the first time in my life that my countdown to Christmas has been my second most important countdown. Can't wait to embrace you and your radiant soul soon.

Vulnerable : To be , or not to be . . .

Alright, I feel as though I need to begin this blog post with a bit of an apology for my month-and-half long hiatus. Turns out college is a really busy time. Who knew? But anyway, here we are again. So I happened to run across the quote above just the other day, and immediately, I felt this unbelievable sort of connection with it. I couldn't help but think, "Well shoot, Ernest. That was probably one of the most ornately, articulately accurate pieces of profoundness I have ever laid eyes upon. I can dig it."

So what exactly have we got here? Vulnerability. First and foremost, I have to let it be known that I simply loathe the thought of being vulnerable, and yet time and time again, I find myself unintentionally being exactly that. I just have always been that person who becomes incredibly invested in everything I do and every relationship I form, and while in some ways this can be wonderful, I must also admit that it has some quite notable downsides. Yesterday, one of my friends said to me, "I think we just naturally expect people to deal with situations like us and to approach relationships in the same way we do. So then when they don't, we cannot even begin to understand how that could be, and it usually just ends up upsetting us. Don't worry; every human does it." So yesterday I realized that I'm definitely human. But besides that, I unearthed so much more.

You see, I have forever been bothered by the fact that I become overly invested in things. Perhaps you've been there too. You act on impulse or do outrageously extravagant things for people you barely know or let "friends" treat you however they see fit because you perpetually hold on to the fact that maybe, just maybe, one day it will change. Sound familiar? Well then congratulations, you were, perhaps unknowingly, making yourself vulnerable. Because when we do such things, it's often our natural inclination to expect that these people will do the same for us and reciprocate the monstrous investment or that these people will in fact change sooner or later down the line. And then if they don't, it's easy to think, "Are you kidding me? I put everything on the line here. I did everything for you. I saw your potential before anyone else did. And this is how you're repaying me?"

For the longest time, this is how I went about things. Isn't that awful? And then I would tell myself that I would never make the same mistake again. Except that never happened. So I got to thinking, and I began to question if this is really a bad thing. As human beings, we were created to take risks; to seek out every last bit of beauty and potential in others and trust that in time (possibly A LOT of time), this potential will come to fruition; to make sacrifices and put ourselves on the line for the sake of others. But sadly, a life lived in such a way does not come with guaranteed satisfaction. Not everyone will reciprocate kindness, not everyone will care to hear your thoughts of his or her beauty, not everyone will even notice the sacrifices that you're making for them. And that's okay. Will it hurt sometimes? Oh goodness, you bet. But that's the price of giving in to a bit of vulnerability. That's the price of continual investment, even when investment seems a tad futile. That's the price of loving people with crazy, immense, outrageous magnitude. And it really is okay I've decided.

After all, we mustn't invest simply to gain returns on the investment. We're talking about relationships here, not the stock market. So by all means, invest. But keep in mind that a life invested can never be a life unscathed.

Sometimes the risks are worth it. Be a little vulnerable.

To Him be the glory ;

John 3:30 ~

I had the humbling pleasure of happening upon this verse this morning, and boy, am I ever glad that I did. Let's just say that sometimes, I have this tendency to become so fixated on my own little world, my own desires, my own accomplishments and achievements and self-absorbed musings. I get utterly and hopelessly lost in myself. Indeed, it is our natural inclination as humans to give ourselves the glory, to pat ourselves on the back a tad too heavily or a bit too frequently, and to regard life's towering pedestal as our rightful stomping ground. But just because something is a natural human inclination doesn't necessarily mean it's right. You see, we also have this natural impulse to gossip and this inherent proclivity to worry, but we don't parade around boasting about such things. I mean, when was the last time you talked to someone who said, "I am just such a good gossiper. Wow"? No; that sounds absurd and downright stupid. Yet, we somehow find the boasting, in and of itself, to be perfectly justifiable, to flaunt what we deem as "ours," to say loudly & proudly, "To (insert your name here) be the glory." Because it's only natural, right?

And that is so gosh darn misguided. Now, I'm not saying that we shouldn't be confident human beings. No way; I'm seriously all about that idea of confidence. After all, we are made in the very image of Christ; we're the beauteous workmanships of a perfect, massive, unceasing God. To deny our worth is to deny the worth of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. And that is something I am not all about. So yes, be confident. Realize that who you are is absolutely incredible due to whose you are. But for crying out loud, we have got to quit taking all the credit.

Because honestly, we have to give credit where credit is due. And that's in the hands of Jesus. It's not all about us; it's all about Him. Without Him, we are nothing. Because frankly, our Savior is astounding & abounding & confounding. He alone is the reason we have hope; He alone provides refuge in each and every one of life's storms; He alone makes new. And to know Jesus Christ is to want to know Him more. And to want to know Him more is to want others to know Him more, simply due to the fact that He is that great. However, if we're constantly consumed by our own agendas or ensconced in our own greatness, we lose sight of what we're doing. We become greater; He becomes less. And that's no good. After all, we should be so enraptured by the love of our Lord that it almost inevitably spills over, permeates every aspect of our lives. He should play such a fundamental role in each day that we can't help but let His ever-enveloping light shine in everything we do and in every word we say and in every heart we seek to touch. He must become GREATER. I must become less. I must set aside my self-seeking desires and recognize that He alone makes all things possible, and man, am I ever blessed to be able to share His unfathomable goodness with others.

Modesty is the best policy. Give a shout out to God.

Happiness is Here.

Since moving away, I have found myself developing any even greater love for writing letters. Sure; a phone call is grand, and shooting texts here and there can be a beautiful thing, but there is something extraordinary about the concreteness of a letter, the fact that you can physically hold it in your hands and take it all in and smell it and hug it and kiss it and throw it around and perhaps hang it up on your wall. There's something sensational about being able to go back through past letters; there's something so alive about them, and thus I tend to be brought to life in new ways every time I reread a good old letter.

So anyway, back to the point: I am all about writing letters these days. And then the other day as I was penning away to one of my best friends, a funny little idea came to my mind, and I thought, "Hmm. I kind of like that idea." Now letters, in & of themselves, are certainly something to behold, but what if they could be vamped up a little bit, taken to the next level? And that got me thinking. So I've begun this habit where I take a picture of where I am when I'm writing a letter and then I stuff the picture into the envelope right before I send it on its way. For example, when I was putting together my thoughts for this blog post, I was sitting in the sweet grass of the pine grove, reveling in the glorious afternoon sunshine as it sprinkled through the trees overhead. So I snapped a photo of it. Nothing extravagant, just a simple depiction of where I was at the moment, the view from where I sat. And that's what I've begun to do with letters.

It probably doesn't make a whole lot of sense, and even if it does, it may seem pretty dull at best. But here's my thought process. In a way, it's as though you're letting the recipient of your letter into your world, no matter how far apart you may be. It's like saying, "Hey, I like your company so much that I would love it if you could be here with me. And this is about the best I can do for right now." Sure, it takes quite a bit of imagination, but goodness, do I love the sentiment of it all. You see, essentially, you are currently sitting in the pine grove with me on the campus of Hope College, enjoying both a lazy afternoon as well as the quaint happiness that comes from time well-wasted. How cool is that? You're here. And I like that.

Yes, I will forever like the idea of being present, of being fully invested in where you are, of learning to accept that the present is the present. So I thought this would just be another way to invite people to be totally invested in the now. To not just read the words, but to be where the words were created. To meet me where I am. To soak up the moment. To savor the time at hand. And to be happy with the now. To seize it and hold it and cherish it and make the best of it. Be present, be alive, be invested in the current. Because after all, happiness is here.

Joy in the Journey

Psalm 46:10 ~

I fear that all too often we, as humans, are prone to this idea of associating a journey with movement. I mean, that only makes sense. A real journey is about going places, taking steps - or perhaps leaps, growing and changing and, yes, moving. So naturally, as I embarked on this new college "journey" of mine, I viewed it in such a light. And this isn't necessarily a bad thing, I suppose. Yes; journeys thrive off of movement and growth and progression; to deny this fact would be utter preposterousness. But here's the food for thought today: Can one's journey still be in progress if he/she is being still? At the moment, this probably doesn't make a whole lot of sense, but let me explain where I'm coming from for just a bit.

These past few days have been an absolute whirlwind, so much so that some of it is already long gone from my memory. There has been an onslaught of new classes, and you guessed it, an onslaught of homework & readings & quizzes & papers galore. Already. And people who know me well also know that I am a pretty crazy perfectionist, so this has been an adjustment like none other for me. Plus, amidst all of this came the realization that I am indeed on my own now. I can't just run to my parents and ask them to take care of everything else for me while I'm busy cranking out the homework. I can't rely on professors to let me know when things are due because apparently that's not a thing anymore. What. But anyway, I have been forced to deal with a multitude of newness, an inundation of unfamiliarity. And let me tell you, this is quite difficult at first. Your head spins and your worries multiply and you may think that moving forward is impossible to do. But here was my mistake: When I felt this way, when I felt as though I couldn't keep up with the journey, I just tried to hurry, believing that if I moved a little faster or went a little crazier, then sooner or later, all of my problems and worries would allay.

However, in this process, I had an awesome - and humbling - learning experience. You see, I discovered that a pivotal part of any successful journey comes from the "being still." It got to the point where I was just like, "God, I can't do this on my own. I know You're doing extraordinary things here, but right now, I'm just overwhelmed and kind of quite scared. Here's my situation; it's Yours. Here I am; I'm Yours." And wow. There is something almost chilling that comes from this, from being still and knowing that God is God. And you are not. Believe it or not, God is bigger than college. And even when you're drowning in newness and doubt and such, He's still at work. That's the amazing part of the story here. In all of the chaos, you've got to trust that He's surrounding you not only with His immense love & peace, but also with a solid group of exquisite people who He has placed in your life for a specific reason. And that's really cool. Yes; it is breathtaking to watch what happens when you let God take the reins, when you can simply surrender all, when you can cherish the good and relinquish all thoughts of the bad, when you can find joy in the situation at hand, when you can be still. And rest easy in the arms of your all-powerful, uncontainable, insurmountable Father God. He's so real that it's unreal.

So, blessings on your journey, whatever that journey is. May the act of being still get you exactly where you need to be.

Filled with Hope.

This past Friday, I finally made my move from good old Saginaw to Holland, Michigan, home to Hope College - and other grand things of course. It's about a three hour trek, so it probably sounds quite simple, quite easy, quite non-monumental, I suppose. And initially, I must admit that I went into it with that sort of mindset. Nothing but a three hour drive, a mere stone's throw away. And since I had already seriously entertained the thought of going as far away as Manhattan College and the University of Kentucky, it was pretty easy for me to view this as "no big deal." But then I began to notice that this wasn't really the case. Let's just say that saying goodbye to my friends in the days before I left was far from easy, regardless of the fact that I knew it was very much a temporary goodbye. Actually, it was one of the worst feelings I've ever had to deal with. You see, I sort of view it as a lose-lose situation. Either you don't say goodbye to your friends for fear of it hurting a bit too much, and thus lose in that sense, or you do say goodbye and are forced to realize once again that you love them too gosh darn much to even handle it, and thus leaving becomes synonymous with losing, losing precious moments together for the time being. So you say your "see you soon's" and then the doubts begin to creep in. Or at least they did for me.

And then you enter uncharted waters. You're thrown into a sea of unfamiliarity and chaos and stress and crowds of people and worry and homesickness and heavy hearts and utter confusion. But you're also thrown into a sea of newness and potential friends and freedom and excitement and a glorious sort of craziness. I like to think that one's first college experience is one of the very few things in life where excitement and sheer terror can be felt in the same instance, and it is a strange, strange, strange little phenomenon. And at first, I wasn't certain how to react to such a phenomenon, so naturally I freaked out. On my first day here, I was an absolute wreck on the inside. I was terrified due to the fact that I was already missing home and missing my friends, and it was just not a pleasant situation.

But then I decided that I wasn't going to let it get me down. And let me tell you, that has to be a very deliberate decision if you really want to follow through on such a feat; you have to be willing to change your outlook and not dwell on the things you're missing at home (even though you certainly still miss them) and buck up and be a little outgoing for once. I finally was able to realize that everyone else was dealing with the same circumstances I was. So I could sit and sulk and be a disgruntled little fool, or I could introduce myself to people and step out of my comfort zone and be a bit bold for the first time in my life. I mean, I have forever been the person who takes like a whole year to warm up to people before I feel as though I can totally be myself around them, and I had to take note of the fact that this method of attack simply would not work this time around. And boy, did the coolest thing ever happen. Now it wasn't instant; I'm not going to lie. I didn't immediately begin dancing around without a care in the world. But I did begin to - slowly but surely - feel at home. You know, people are so nice if you let them be, and it's so great to be surrounded by so many like-minded people, people who love Christ and love others and want desperately to make you feel like you are not only cared for, but where you are meant to be. And that's beautiful. And I am beginning to love it here.

So classes start Tuesday, and we shall see how it goes from there. Right now, I'm in the excited phase. So many new faces & stories & opportunities. Yes; I am quite hopeful that God's going to do big things. And I'm ready.

Both life & perspective are changing .

Yesterday I had one of those moments where you can't help but say to yourself, "Well shoot, if overblessed is a possible state of being, then that is surely the most accurate adjective I can contrive to describe myself right now." You see, I leave for college in a little over a week, and I've been forced to face the fact that regrettably, despite the goodness of such moments, I still have to be on my way in a short while. And at first, I was afraid that this was going to be some awful ordeal, and I'm not going to deny the fact that certain aspects of leaving will be extremely difficult - namely, the goodbyes. I feel as though if one is able to leave a place without any feelings of sadness or emptiness, then he or she simply did not ever truly & fully live in that place to begin with. So yes; don't think that I am taking the thought of leaving lightly. Because I'm not. But I suppose I've never been a strong proponent of visibly expressing my emotions, especially negative or vulnerable ones. Because frankly, I am incapable of doing so. So why not focus on the positives? If you sort of rearrange your perspective, I am convinced that there are very few things that can't be viewed in a positive light. 

I could be sad about the fact that this summer is coming to a close. Or I could revel in the fact that this summer has been a treasure trove of goodness. Gosh, this summer has been grand. Did I see certain friends as much as I had originally envisioned? No; definitely not. I think summer has a way of being a bit ruthless in that sense, and it's not a happy thing. Nevertheless, this summer has been doused with bike rides and sunshine and travel and road trips and picnics and flowers and family and friends and beautiful madness. And there is absolutely no way to look at these blessings and not be thankful and utterly enraptured by the sweetness of it all. 

But I fear that too often, we treat a move to college as though it's a death to all life as we know it, and while I get where this perception comes from and I get that life really will never be the same again, that doesn't mean that it's 100% accurate, some sort of infallible theory. Actually, it's not. Sure, new friends will be met, and new living arrangements will be enjoyed, or perhaps, dealt with. We'll be forced to be "responsible adults," and that kind of grosses me out, but it's still a reality I guess. Things will change; things will change a lot. But not everything has to change. If this was the case, I would probably spend my last week at home freaking out, as opposed to savoring the time I have left here, and I think we can all agree that approach would be no good. You can stay connected with people. It's one of the few modern extravagances that I am beyond grateful for. You have the ability to call up old friends; call your mom; call your dad; call your cousin; call your great grandpa. Keep the connections alive. You're leaving; you're not dying.

However, it's still sad. Leaving tends to be that way. But if we spent all our lives avoiding the act of moving on for fear that tears may be shed in the process, then we would never get anywhere. Recognize that amidst the leaving lies the going. And the going holds a heck of a lot of promise and excitement. And just remember, if you're sad about leaving, that probably means you've been blessed where you are. And you should be happy about that. 

This will most likely be my last blog post before I leave because I don't want to be spending a great deal of time near my computer when I could be with friends or family or even doing some packing here & there. I'll be sure to share how my first college endeavors unfold. And then continue from there.

But life is good. Such extraordinary people I have the privilege of calling my friends and family. Here's to new chapters, and a life that's so beautiful that portions of the previous chapters will spill over into the new.

Year One : Done .

One year ago today, I said to myself, "Writing is cool; I like it. I feel the weird need to start my own blog." And so I did just that. I had no idea what I was getting myself into honestly. I just knew one thing for sure: I would set my blog to private so that the only eyes reading it would belong to me, myself, and I. Well, those were the original intentions. But then about ten minutes later, after I had completed my first post, I thought to myself, "Wait, wait, wait. This is stupid. I already have a separate journal; what am I getting out of posting this for no one? Writing is writing when writing is read." And so I then proceeded to change the privacy setting to "public" and never looked back. And boy oh boy, am I ever grateful that I chose to do that. I began with little idea of where I was headed, a teenager fixated on the future more than anything else in this first post:

Rest Less

But in this past year, I have seen that the now is pretty exquisite; life itself is pretty exquisite. I've watched high school literally fly in front of my very eyes. I've been floored by some incredibly high moments and humbled by some unexpected lower moments. I've reinvigorated my love for my Savior. I've been blessed with sensational friendships, some merely growing stronger in the past year and some originating in that same period of time. I've come to the realization that judging is futile. I've had the extraordinary gift of seeing even more of the world and once again discovering that I am terribly infatuated with traveling. I've begun writing a little book of my own. And all along the way, I've written about everything from the purely trivial, such as my hair, to the less trivial things that were simply pressing on my heart, eager to be brought to light.

Overall, it has been a pleasure. This year will certainly hold a vast array of all its own changes, and that is both exciting and terrifying, and I'm stoked for all the writing opportunities that it should bring about as well. So here I am, about 70 posts later. Some things have changed; some haven't. And I'm just really thankful. And ready for another solid year of this.

P.S. Thank you to every person who has read this blog, whether one post or all of them. And an added thanks to the small handful of people who've read from the very beginning. So much love for you.

Lasso the Moon . And the Night .

Today, I found myself craving Christmas, so since I had a spot of free time on my hands, I threw on a grand old classic: It's a Wonderful Life. And amidst all the Christmas wonder and allure, I was once again reminded of how much I adore this scene above. So swoon-worthy. How is Jimmy Stewart so smooth? I don't know, but I like it.

So anyway, I got to thinking about the moon & night & all that great stuff, and no worries, this isn't yet another post about stargazing. But this summer, I have made up my mind that whoever decided that nights were for sleeping had no real grasp on the concepts of raw fun or freedom. Well, perhaps there are some logistical perks to sleeping at night, but I have yet to find one that makes me whole-heartedly want to do so. Nighttime simply holds too much gloriousness to sleep through it, so much so that one should almost feel as though an early trip to bed is a cop out, a forfeit, a surrender. Alright, that may sound a little harsh, but hey, I don't write fiction on this blog. Nighttime simply wins. Because frankly, the best things happen at night.

Everything becomes more candid and uninhibited. And I enjoy this. I enjoy the sweet liberation that comes from letting thoughts run wild because essentially, you're far too exhausted to even attempt to control them any longer. There will forever be something weirdly beautiful about being totally lost within one's own thoughts, drowning in musings and reflections galore. I enjoy the happy realization that at that very moment, you have the right to declare that you are getting more out of life than everyone else who's sleeping. Heck, if you have no desire for the day to end, then don't allow it to. Just stay up all night, and it will be as though the day is twice as long. What a gift. Ah! and don't even get me started on the beautiful transition from dark to dawn. If you've ever had the pleasure of watching the night turn to day before your very eyes, then you can officially say that you have lived.

Now, I realize that sleep-free nights cannot be a reality every night of the year. But when the opportunity presents itself, go for it. Especially in the summer. Summer almost begs for such nights. And what've you got to lose? Nothing but a little sleep.

Three cheers for dark nights & light hearts.

Life is fragile: Handle with prayer.

Just a few days ago, I - along with innumerable others - was reminded of how unbelievably precious life is. I don't care if that is the biggest, most overused, hackneyed cliche in the entire world, because it has to be heard; it must be engrained in our hearts and minds and thoughts and motives. You see, so often, we get hung up on the trivial, on the shallow, on the totally and completely inconsequential. We parade around as though we've got it all figured out, as though we have mastered the beautiful art called life. But, whoa, this could not be further from the truth.

Because wow, is life ever fragile. It's a difficult thing to believe this fact whole-heartedly, until it becomes blatantly apparent and you're forced to. This world is sinful; it is literally teeming with vice & destruction & devastation. So, we should all be discouraged, right? We should all live for ourselves, forever complacent because there is no ultimate goal and no reason to anticipate anything more. Umm. No way. You bet this world has the potential to be frightening and daunting. But all thanks be to Jesus Christ, our Hope Incarnate, Peace Epitomized, Compassion Manifest. He's the kind of hope that is fated to affect, to change the way we view this world and view the people within it. Because when you know Christ, when you really know Him, He becomes prevalent not only in you, but in every last thing that you do. He's the kind of peace that passes all finite, earthly understanding and looks despair right in the face and laughs. He's the kind of compassion that compels, that elicits a change, that seeks to thoroughly obliterate the conformist patterns of this world.

And when this happens, suddenly, you embrace a little more often; you love a little deeper; you grasp a little tighter; and you can utter with secure confidence that every day is a sheer joy and every person encountered is an undeniable blessing. Far too often, we go about living as though it's something to "get through," when in reality, we should be all over it. We should be head-over-heels in love with living, with really living. Because, yeah, there are going to be trials. This week has made that quite evident. But prayer does wonders. And because of this, we have hope. In any and every circumstance.

C.S. Lewis said something along the lines of, "Nothing that you haven't given away will ever truly be yours." How true that is! So spread life. Make it contagious. Just live off of life.

P.S. Shout out to Marissa. You are such a champ, and you are dearly, dearly loved. Shout out to our Father God. And shout out to all those ceaseless pray-ers.

The Game

Just last night, I had the absolute pleasure of going stargazing with a dear friend, and if you've ever been on a stargazing excursion, you've most likely come to the realization that stargazing has the potential to be very conducive to good conversation. It was; it really was. And I'm not entirely sure how we landed on the topic of communication, but we did. And we got to talking and I got to thinking, as well as practicing my all-too-common habit of spewing my thoughts. We were left with a common thread, a thread which left us perpetually asking the question: Why on earth has this generation made communicating with other people, specifically those they're interested in, some sort of crazy little game?

Here's what I'm saying. Let's take texting for example, though it is most assuredly not the only culprit. Why has it become such a huge struggle? We worry about if and/or when we should text the person first. We freak out if the person doesn't respond within a certain period of time. We actually devise plans to lay back on the texting in an effort to play hard to get or something. It is literally a game. And a game that no one can ever truly win. Moreover, it has become yet another unnecessary life controller. Our day is one grand old affair when that "special someone" sends a text our way. But God forbid we don't hear from them for a few days. Then we cry and think we've lost all hope and will be forever miserable. What is this? What the heck are we doing? Seriously.

Maybe it's the weird part of me that will never be able to deal with the mind games that many people find strangely enthralling, but eww. It honestly doesn't have to be that way. Call me crazy, but I would just adore if communicating could merely be a normal & helpful & enjoyable gift. Our generation simply has a way of complicating things that were originally intended to simplify and enhance. And if that is fun to you, then have at it. Really, that's totally cool. But if you find yourself a bit dissatisfied with such things and notice that your moods have become far too dependent on whose name does or doesn't appear on your phone from day to day, then maybe it's time to reevaluate.

Try this. Text people first when you feel so inclined. Don't when you don't feel so inclined. And if you're freaking out about not receiving an oh so "vital" call or text, maybe take a step back for a second or an hour or a day. There's this beautiful place called outside. Go there. Ride a bike, run, swim, dance. Because sometimes, we must let a phone be just a phone. And we must learn to relish independence and the world outside the screen, not within.

You can't lose the game when you're not playing.

Why! Hello, Dear Words!

Alright. I have a bit of a confession. Sometimes at night when I can't sleep, I type "cool words" or "beautiful words" in the Google search bar and then spend the rest of my night attempting to memorize as many of the definitions as possible, some of them ravishing and some of them downright strange. I know it probably seems as though I have some sort of problem that needs to be addressed, and while that may in fact be the case, the truth of the matter is that it is perhaps in my top five favorite pastimes, amongst laughing & counting down to Christmas & walking on trails in autumn's prime, of course. But I'm telling you, it is crazily fascinating. At first, it made me a little sad that there are so many words in the English language that have gone unexplored and unappreciated for so long a time, but then I thought, "By George! This is the perfect opportunity to share some of the wealth with others!" Because that's exactly what these words are. Treasure troves. Give them a whirl.

Whoa. I adore weird words. The best part is seeking an opportunity to put these little darlings into practice. Best wishes; happy hunting.

Stargazing, Gazing at Stars

I am enamored with the night sky. You see, I'm a night runner, actually just an all-around night person. And when I return home from my nightly running, I have made a beautiful habit of simply laying in my driveway, throwing my gaze upward, and indulging in the absolute wonder of it all. To see that scene, to take in the utter extravagance of such a quaint yet monstrous simplicity, and not be humbled is something I could never even begin to fathom. It's heaven. Both literally and figuratively.

I'm kind of addicted to it, hopelessly and wonderfully addicted, if I'm being honest here. You see, being belittled is usually a very frustrating and/or annoying thing for me, as it is for the vast majority of us. But I consider it nothing but an incredible honor when I look up at the night sky and feel small. It almosts begs you to croon, "Belittle me more." Because it's that good; it's that awesome.

Now I don't know all of the technical names & jargon & all that jazz; some day I certainly hope to. But for now, I am content to gaze. Sometimes, I find myself so lost in it that an hour or two or more will go by, and I won't even have the faintest clue - or care, for that matter. Because sometimes, you just have to learn how to savor. Too often, we're so bent on documenting the moment that we fail to remember how to truly be in the present and what it means to pause and to ponder and to reflect. It makes you realize that the superficial things that seemed so important that day weren't all that important. Perspective changes. And a changed perspective proceeds to change everything else for the better. Suddenly, you're reminded of how big your God is. And how uncontainable He is. And how uncontainable you are because He is.

It's a glorious little thing, stargazing. The magnitude, the loveliness, the ceaselessness.

I pray that one day everyone will come down with a chronic case of stargazing fever. Ah.

A Brilliant Little Treasure.

This is not my work, but I had to share it. I just really love it, is all.

"Date a girl who reads. Date a girl who spends her money on books instead of clothes. She has problems with closet space because she has too many books. Date a girl who has a list of books she wants to read, who has had a library card since she was twelve. 

Find a girl who reads. You’ll know that she does because she will always have an unread book in her bag. She’s the one lovingly looking over the shelves in the bookstore, the one who quietly cries out when she finds the book she wants. You see the weird chick sniffing the pages of an old book in a second hand book shop? That’s the reader. They can never resist smelling the pages, especially when they are yellow. 

She’s the girl reading while waiting in that coffee shop down the street. If you take a peek at her mug, the non-dairy creamer is floating on top because she’s kind of engrossed already. Lost in a world of the author’s making. Sit down. She might give you a glare, as most girls who read do not like to be interrupted. Ask her if she likes the book.

Buy her another cup of coffee. 

Let her know what you really think of Murakami. See if she got through the first chapter of Fellowship. Understand that if she says she understood James Joyce’s Ulysses she’s just saying that to sound intelligent. Ask her if she loves Alice or she would like to be Alice. 

It’s easy to date a girl who reads. Give her books for her birthday, for Christmas and for anniversaries. Give her the gift of words, in poetry, in song. Give her Neruda, Pound, Sexton, Cummings. Let her know that you understand that words are love. Understand that she knows the difference between books and reality but by god, she’s going to try to make her life a little like her favorite book. It will never be your fault if she does. 

She has to give it a shot somehow. 

Lie to her. If she understands syntax, she will understand your need to lie. Behind words are other things: motivation, value, nuance, dialogue. It will not be the end of the world. 

Fail her. Because a girl who reads knows that failure always leads up to the climax. Because girls who understand that all things will come to end. That you can always write a sequel. That you can begin again and again and still be the hero. That life is meant to have a villain or two. 

Why be frightened of everything that you are not? Girls who read understand that people, like characters, develop. Except in the Twilight series. 

If you find a girl who reads, keep her close. When you find her up at 2 AM clutching a book to her chest and weeping, make her a cup of tea and hold her. You may lose her for a couple of hours but she will always come back to you. She’ll talk as if the characters in the book are real, because for a while, they always are. 

You will propose on a hot air balloon. Or during a rock concert. Or very casually next time she’s sick. Over Skype. 

You will smile so hard you will wonder why your heart hasn’t burst and bled out all over your chest yet. You will write the story of your lives, have kids with strange names and even stranger tastes. She will introduce your children to the Cat in the Hat and Aslan, maybe in the same day. You will walk the winters of your old age together and she will recite Keats under her breath while you shake the snow off your boots. 

Date a girl who reads because you deserve it. You deserve a girl who can give you the most colorful life imaginable. If you can only give her monotony, and stale hours and half-baked proposals, then you’re better off alone. If you want the world and the worlds beyond it, date a girl who reads. 

Or better yet, date a girl who writes."

                                  -Rosemarie Urquico

Contentment is astounding.

I had coffee with a great friend of mine just yesterday, and have you ever had one of those unbelievable conversations that leaves you whole-heartedly at peace and just filled with such a passion for anything & everything in your life? Well, if not, then that's a real bummer, and I highly recommend it. But that's what I left that coffee shop feeling. You see, lately, I've had a difficult time dealing with watching as people invest in all the wrong things. It's simply not fun and a bit unnerving to sit back and look on as people - myself included - place all of their worth and reason for living in trivial, fleeting, stupid things. And it's just altogether really sad and disheartening. So this sort of uplifting conversation was exactly what I needed.

We basically sat and talked about how cool our Savior is. And once again, I was reminded of how much I am in love with the man and God Jesus Christ. I heard this great thing one time that said something along the lines of, "The only One who can truly satisfy the human heart is the One who made it." Whoa. It is so gosh darn easy to get caught up in this world. That's not even a debatable fact. This world is enticing and alluring and it is chock full of distractions, and the traps are innumerable. It's kind of overwhelming, kind of hard to deal with. Thus, the simple solution is to merely give in and find happiness and value in the things of the world. That's the easiest remedy. Why fight it when you can indulge and soak in the temporary pleasures? But Christ has called us to so much more than this. He's called us to see that we have a reason for living, a reason to live a life in the incessant pursuit of bringing others to Him.

Because to know Jesus Christ is contentment personified. He is utterly and incomprehensibly extraordinary. A God of fierce & furious love, a love that transcends the world and anything this world has to offer. A Savior who sees me - sees you - and says, "I don't care where you've been. I don't care who you've been. I don't care what you've done. You're mine. You're new. And I want nothing more than to give you the kind of peace that makes each day a treasure and makes each storm surmountable." Living is a beautiful thing. Living with a purpose is even more beautiful, believe it or not. Yes; Jesus certainly is in the business of changing lives. What a gift it is to be able to feel Him at work. In all honesty, I have never been this at peace, this at ease.

Jesus Christ satisfies. His love stirs; His strength empowers; His grace floods.

Good, Better, Beth: An Excerpt

This summer has certainly been filled with adventure and hustle & bustle galore. It's been a heck of a blast so far, if I do say so myself, and it is still in its prime. What a blessing. But amidst all of this action, I have been setting aside a little bit of time to write, mostly in the wee hours of the morning, but hey, that's when I do my best thinking. Mainly because I don't think at all; I merely write. Now, I have made considerable headway, and although it is still pretty shabby, I just really feel like sharing a bit of it. As I found myself falling deeper into the story and becoming weirdly attached to the characters within, I thought, "Ah, yes! Why not have others join in on the process?" So here it is. The opening to Good, Better, Beth. You are now entering the world of sixteen-year-old Beth Benson: 

Now before I begin, I must let you in on a little bit of a secret, a little background check, if you will, to set the records straight. Sorry ladies, this is not some woe-is-me tale of a girl who is dissatisfied with all the characters within her sorry excuse for a life, dissatisfied with all those other than her cat, of course. No, no, I am perfectly content (to an extent) and quite far from even borderline depressed, or what is in my opinion much worse, a lovesick teen who makes perfectly clear her inevitable spinster fate through perpetual posts of "forever alone" or candids with the aforementioned caption. And sorry boys, this is not some juicy diary of all my hopes and dreams and fantasies, seeing as, truth be told, I don’t even know enough to conjure up such fantasies, and I am most likely the most innocent person on the face of the planet. And not necessarily by choice; let that sink in. In reality, I’m simply tossing out my thoughts here, relaying a few of the more notable stories that got me to where I am now, and letting ordinary become extraordinary, merely by sprinkling in an extra dose of ordinary. But be forewarned, I do not promise that my descriptions will be completely void of teen angst or vivid yearnings for more than the dog-eat-dog world of high school has to offer. Those will definitely make an appearance, but I’ll make my best attempt to keep it minimal. 

So welcome to my life. Welcome to the life of a certain girl who formerly feared drowning in a sea of conformity, but has somehow managed to remain afloat. Welcome the life of one who used to be fancifully set on the pursuit of avoiding notice by fitting in as much as her unwilling-to-fit-in mind would allow. Welcome to a life of growth and discovery and ill but commendable attempts at raw, invigorating adventure. Welcome to a life of cliche teen anxiety. Welcome to a life of liberation, of breaking all ties with the “norm.” Yes; welcome, welcome, one and all. 

First off, to describe myself. Hmm. This is tougher than I suspected. Alright, here we go, I’ve come up with an analogy. You know when you have a cavity in your mouth and you keep sucking in air periodically to check if it’s still there? That is the equivalent of my life. I am the gross, dank cavity. You see, my friends usually choose not to notice me, but they frequently check to see if I’m there, making sure their closest thing to a live-in psychiatrist is always quietly and unassumingly waiting by their sides, eager to do their bidding. Well, maybe that was a little harsh. It’s not that my friends knowingly take advantage of me; they just knowingly take advantage of the fact that I am notably easy to take advantage of. Thus, I suppose some of the blame can be traced back to myself, but just let me have my moment. Let’s just say, Pushover is my middle name. It actually is though. It’s my mom’s maiden name and for some reason she saw it fit to keep this “unique and honorable” name in the family. Ironic, huh? No, I’m totally kidding; I made that whole last part up. But if my middle name wasn’t Marie (how original), I would certainly make a point of suggesting that it be Pushover because that’s exactly what I am. I happily let people use me because I like to see other people happy. My biggest fear in life is confrontation. And frankly, if you don’t want people to take advantage of you, confrontation is usually essential. But that’s me. And I’ve grown so accustomed to my place in the social classes of high school that I’ve become immune to the fact that this probably isn’t okay. It’s fine by me for now. 

Oh, and how could I forget about boys? Now, I’m not ugly, at least that’s what my mom seems to think. I’m just not, uh, what’s the correct term for it? Oh yeah, “sexy.” Let me break it down for you. What I lack in curves, I make up for intelligence and you might find this hard to believe, but that does not generally suffice for the “curious” boys of my age. I had a boyfriend once. Timmy Jenkins, 7th grade, 3 week relationship. He was five inches my junior, but I didn’t mind. We were promoted to the couples table on the far end of the cafeteria, strategically placed behind a large pillar, blocking any potential PDA from the view of the teachers on the opposite side of the room. It was perfection. And to me, all seemed right with the world. How did our 3 week tryst originate, you ask? Well Timmy was a big music buff, and word on the street was that I made the best mix tapes (It was true.), so we began talking. He promised that if I made him a new mix every week, he would call me his girlfriend, and the newness of it all, of being acknowledged by a boy for something other than a hastily-copied answer to an unfinished homework question, made me promptly and swooningly agree to the plan. He was very fond of those weekly presents, and I grew very fond of his presence. Therefore if I gave, he stayed, and we both won. Then the fourth week I went out of town to visit my cousins in Seattle, and when I came back, we were over. I hadn’t been able to give him the mix tape for the week, and I was later told that he had been waiting for the opportune time to “let me down gently.” And I never talked to him again. I cried to my mom about it later, and she - never the best in the comforting department - said, “That’s why you can’t mix love and payment. At least now you know that you’ll never be a successful hooker.” Valid point, I guess.  

But this year, I’ve had my hopes - and eyes - set on a certain Owen Shatner. He’s the type of boy who’s so attractive that even his threats can be mistaken for promises. Is that provocative? Good. The other day in the hallway I said, “Hi,” and he smiled. Yeah, I guess you could say things are coming along swimmingly. Owen is captain of the lacrosse team, an avid member of the “Jocks for Jesus” club, and chair of the environmentally conscious group, “Woodn’t It Be Nice To Save the Trees?” I suppose you could say he’s got it all. Except me. Eww, that was weird and unnecessary. I apologize for saying that. But anyway, he’s cool. I’m not one of those obsessive people who dreams about their love interest all day and all night and gets all heart-poundy and clammy every time they come around. I’m quite keen on the art of nonchalance, on the idea that if we build it, they will come. So, if I keep looking good, he’ll end up making the first move. Aw, who am I kidding? It’s realizations like these that add to my ever-growing conviction that love is nothing but a fantasy, a strong, emotional infatuation that we mistake for something more. But anyway, I digress. 

I just have a difficult time fitting in with this modern generation and the mentality of this modern generation. They demand excitement, to see things move. I demand to BE moved. The other day I asked my friend Henry if he wanted to go lay in a field somewhere and look at the clouds as they rolled on by, and he, after discovering that he had no better offers, agreed to join me on my journey that cloud-ridden afternoon. We found a great spot in the park a couple blocks down from my house in the soft, warm, tickling mid-spring grass and proceeded to lay and gaze, gaze and lay. Finally, after the prolonged silence became unbearable and Henry had dozed off for the second time, I suggested that we add some excitement, some zest, some sort of captivation to an activity that had clearly lost a large portion of its appeal due to the dawning of the age of the smart phone. So I said, “Let’s say what we see in the clouds. Like, what does that one look like to you?” I pointed to a cloud in the distance that was clearly an exact replica of an egg, sunny-side-up in a frying pan. After he guessed “cotton ball” and “snow bank,” I decided that he was missing the point. And I also decided that this generation needed help. We’re forgetting that screens aren’t windows and contact with the intangible, the abstract, the thought-provoking, is pivotal and mustn’t - CANNOT - be lost. We’re so stupid that we can’t grasp the idea of digging deeper than the surface, of succumbing to the fact that a change in perspective can unveil a whole new world, a picture whose presence is ordinarily overlooked or lost in the endless shuffle to adhere only to the concrete, the simple, and nothing more. Perhaps I’m misguided, an old soul who needs to suck it up and give in to the boisterous, consuming “pleasures” and “advances” of the now. Perhaps this is the case. Perhaps also I don’t care to give in.

Hooray.

Great Expectations

The following is a clip from the movie (500) Days of Summer. Tom Hansen, like the majority of the rest of us, is, regrettably, suffering from an awful bout with an illness known as lofty expectations. He has the whole evening painted vividly - and perfectly - in his mind when he arrives at the party. Summer Finn will be all his, and his life will once again be pristine and picturesque. Or so he thinks. But nothing can live up to these wonderful suppositions. And Tom Hansen gets left in the dust, caught somewhere in between expectations and reality and hating every minute of it. Oh! How terrible it is to face the truth that in a duel between expectations and reality, reality will forever be a shoo-in, the insurmountable champion.

In the past few months, I have realized that I am an expecter; I'm like Tom. I like to think of all these magical scenarios in my head, scenarios that I myself know are far-fetched and borderline totally impossible in the first place. And then I get upset when the day or the event rolls around and nothing goes according to my perfect little plan. And then it kind of sucks, and I say to myself, "Oh goodness! I'll never let that happen again. What on earth was I thinking? From now on, I'm going to be a hardcore realist." But frankly, who I am trying to fool here? We all know that will never happen. Another day goes by, and I am forever stuck in my rut of monotonous, glorious expectations.

Now, for awhile, I have been trying to convince myself that the only cure to such an epidemic was to stop it once and for all, to say so long to great expectations and recognize that I should expect nothing at most and then be pleasantly surprised should something a tad better than nothing occur. It sounds logical, I suppose. But not practical. I'm not saying that we should have our sights set on a life lived purely and unabashedly in the clouds with no sense of reality whatsoever. I mean, if that floats your boat, then more power to you, sailor. But what I am saying is that we don't need to put an end to the expectations. If we are dead set on expecting nothing and going into every situation with a bleak mindset, then I can guarantee that our expectations - or lack there of - will be right on point. It will be horridly miserable at best. And who wants that?

Sometimes, a pinch or a dash of expectation is quite necessary, quite enthralling. So it may not always go your way, but who's to say that you can't learn to be content with whatever the circumstance?

Why! What a beautiful day it will be when we can utter in sheer confidence, "This wasn't exactly how I had envisioned it, but man, I am lovin' on this anyway."

Freak , Control

Lately, I have been forced to face the ugly fact that letting go is indeed a necessary and even frequent part of life. It's so easy to want to control everything, to be able to pick and choose when these aforesaid incidents of letting go will take place, to keep things just the way they've always been situated in those cluttered little minds of ours. Believe me; I get it.

You see, I am avid lover of change - change of all kinds. Except when the change is actually happening. I like the thought of it. Heck, I love the thought of it. But I am coming to find that it is hard to sit back and watch as your whole world is rocked. It's difficult to perpetually throw caution to the wind and let whatever happens, happen and whatever fails to happen, not happen. That's not how most humans are wired. We learn to be complacent, to take things as they are, and then proceed to love them that way and that way only. It's not a sin; it's not a bad thing by any means. But it does become problematic when change happens, when letting go is no longer an option but a necessity.

Let me make this a little clearer. Summertime is a beautiful world. I am deeply, madly, purely in love with it. The problem rests in the fact that in the summer, I have absolutely no reason to go to sleep. During the school year, I can usually persuade myself that four or five hours of sleep is pivotal to function properly and - God-willing - successfully in the classroom. In the summer, I have no such motivation. Thus, I spend most nights simply in thought. Although I am only midway through my first writing endeavor, I am already plotting something along the lines of a second, The Perks of Being an Insomniac. We'll see if that happens, but that is seriously beside the point at the moment. Amid these midnight musings, I have found myself worrying far too much. I worry about losing touch with people in the next few years; I worry about choices; I worry about this crazy thing called life. It's quite difficult to grasp - and resign to - the fact that not everything is in my control any more. Actually, it's terrifying. Whoa.

But Jesus. That's all I have to say. Jesus is the greatest. Here I am, sitting and freaking out about everything, when this Savior of mine has it all in HIS control. Now, I'm not saying that I never worry about anything anymore. I do. But not nearly as much. I'm only human. He's God. Therefore, I am totally cool with letting Him take the reigns on this one.

We've been called to live in the moment, to seize it whole-heartedly, to devour it. Why on earth would we waste it on what-if's and how-come's? Eww. Now living - really living - sounds pretty good, am I right?

Here's to cluttered bookshops, lock bridges, good food, and sucking the marrow out of life

Paris. Wow. If it was a holiday, it would most assuredly be Christmas because we all know that Christmas is pure gold. I have been here but a day and a half, and I have already fallen madly, head-over-heels in love with this absolute dream to which they've attempted giving the ordinary name of "city."

Paris has a way of making the mind reel and whirl and twirl. Here I am, sitting in my hotel and unwinding as the day comes to a close, and my mind is still going crazy. You see, I tend to do this thing where I relive the events of the day at night. And frankly, when your day is packed full of exquisiteness from dawn til dark, there is a heck of a lot to revisit. So much grandeur and unfamiliarity and timelessness. And I'm liking it.

There is something about this place that breeds a carefree mentality. Let's just say, if becoming reckless could be seen in a positive light, then Paris has mastered such a concept. What a gift it is to simply wander, to meander, to feel the strange comfort that resides in being lost in a sea of people and being equally at peace with it. It's rather dream-like, I must say.

Today's docket included some noteworthy pitstops, like a visit to the historic Notre Dame. While hunchbacks were nowhere to be found, quite a bit of beauty was. Many pictures were snapped. Too many. But the good kind of too many, I believe. And then came a trip to the infamous "lock bridge." Here, couples usually share a lock with their names written on it, lock it to the bridge, and then throw the key into the river to signify an unending commitment to their love for one another. So naturally, I did one too. Just because. And it was actually pretty neat. Lovely, in fact. From here, we embarked on a little journey to heaven, a.k.a. Shakespeare & Company. It's this bookshop with just about any classic one's mind can implore. Essentially, you're bathing in words, rubbing elbows with the greats, entering a rare wonderland that we have erroneously deemed "boring" as of late. And it was oh so refreshing. Mmm. Delectable.

From there, we shopped and ate. But regrettably, I don't have all day to elaborate. Let's just say, a sizable amount of shopping and eating took place. And it was great.

So far, here's what I've got. Paris is nice, and the living's easy. I am finding that it's a great thing to really live life, to live deliberately. It's okay to just go with the flow. If you walk on a manhole in the middle of a crowded street and your dress blows over your head, just go with it. If you can't understand what the man on the moped is saying to you, just nod and wink. If you can't read the menu, just choose something that looks fun.

It's quite enthralling, all of this. We'll see what the Eiffel Tower & such bring tomorrow.

New York World

New York World

A scrawl and a scribble and a jot here and there;

I’m penning away like I don’t have a care.

Yet my mind is ablaze; my prospects enhance.

“New York City,” I croon, as I rock and I dance.

The subway prods on, undeterred, unafraid.

The tracks are but water, this transit to wade.

Soon the churning allays, the finale in sight, 

With a clunk and a hiss and a well-wrought fight.

Exhausted, it halts, gives a yawn of its doors.

The world just outside, with its bustle, allures.

The doors tip their hats as we travelers embark

Through the station, up the stairs, to the light, out of dark.

I’m enthralled; I’ve made it, no doubt, no exception.

I sigh a sweet breath: “Mmm - smogged to perfection!”

I throw my head back; I pulse with the scene.

My eyes become tangled; too much grandeur to glean.

“Let me soak it all in! Let me revel in this,”

I say, mesmerized by the chaotic bliss.

Buildings, unceasing, some but mere skeletons,

Some gaudy, some meager, some shedding their skins.

Now and then, window panes begin calling their roll.

A faint “Here!” can be heard, drowned out by a lull.

It’s as though they’ve decided to all phone in ill,

Like glass crossword puzzles with spaces to fill.

But out of my trance, I emerge, vastly floored:

The Empire State Building, standing poised, self-assured.

With his pronged cap in place, the suave giant gleams,

So close to heaven, he risks bursting its seams.

Such a dapper old chap, if I must admit.

“He’s so sharp,” I announce, “he could challenge my wit.”

But as things tend to go on a quite stifled street,

I am soon whisked away, other places to meet.

“Taxi! Taxi!” I cry, with a wave of my hand,

Hoping passersby guess that I’m from this land.

One rudely pulls up, a brief dirge of its horn,

Its tattered seats tales of the people it’s worn.

“Times Square?” I inquire, as though it’s old news,

Trying my hand at indifference, dodging childish spews.

In just moments, I’m there; I’m bathing in lights, 

These great man-made stars, making frauds of the nights.

Adhere to the adage that less may be more?

Times Square beckons back, “Well, that’d be a bore.”

But adrenaline can only not sicken so long,

Then my heart longs for simpler, craves a quieter song.

“I’ve got it,” I cheer, and I can’t help but swoon.

“Central Park, here I come! See your darling face soon!”

Another hailed taxi, another coarse ride,

Another hand at composure and nonchalance tried.

But, oh! There it is, music to my eyes.

Central Park, so unrivaled, in much more than its size.

Like a classic novel’s comfort in this high-tech world,

The intimacy of page turning, something tangible unfurled.

For amidst a great city so dead set on bustle,

A reprieve proves a treasure, an escape from the rustle.

To settle on down and revisit what’s known, 

To see nature thrive in a city of stone. 

And that’s Central Park; it gives life to the old.

It refuses to leave life’s classics untold.

Yes; New York has it all; I suppose I’m in love.

In regards to its perks, I’d check “all of the above.”

That day as I left, my mind reeled and twirled,

“New York City?” I asked. “Nah. New York World.”

Confidence: It's Key

That's right. Confidence is a paramount piece of the puzzle commonly referred to as life. But oh! how prone we are to compare ourselves to others, to adhere to the doubts in our pretty little heads, to second guess, to focus on our shortcomings and snub our strengths as though it's been our job from the moment we first called this world our home. You see, the concept of confidence sounds utterly exquisite, a lovely way to go about viewing ourselves and others. But perhaps, it is the most vivid example of the old adage that it's often easier said than it is done. Gee whiz, why must this always be the case?

Well, I have found that humans - even those seemingly perfect ones who induce a second glance with each parting of the first - all have some sort of flaw, some looming fault that the mirror always gets a kick out of pointing out, some insecurity way deep down. Even if no one else can see it, we can. I mean, we truly are our own worst critics. Forget the camera; our own finicky, ever-examining eyes add ten pounds. And what a travesty this all is. Now, I'm not here to simply state that we're all beautiful and should be happy with ourselves just the way we are and all that jazz. That's great; don't get me wrong, and I will always be whole-heartedly certain that this point is 100% true. But I've never been one to love cliches. In fact, I kind of live to do the opposite of everyone else, to make use of a brand new perspective, to recycle tired, hackneyed advice and rejuvenate it a bit if I am so able.

So yes; we're all beautiful and talented in some way; I can vouch for that fact. But I believe that it rests in so much more than all of this. It's about learning to accept the idea that comparing oneself to another in the hope of attaining some sort of peace or security in the process is about as futile as going for a picnic as a harsh thunderstorm begins to roll in. At the time, it doesn't seem so bad, but as soon as you spread your checkered blanket on the soft green grass, the petrichor starts to pass, and the rain itself begins to pour down, accompanied by its cohorts, thunder and lightning. Suddenly, regret makes its way to the forefront, and you can see that all of your packing and planning were for naught. Yes; this is the equivalent of using comparison for some sort of self affirmation. It may seem alright at the time, but it can severely cloud your perceptions and leave you with a worthless feeling.

So maybe give confidence a shot. It's this fascinating concept where you believe in yourself and live with the full assurance that you are who you are and that alone is surely and entirely remarkable. If you ever feel the need to let a flaw or a setback or a shortcoming or a person define you, please do me a favor and stop that right now. I have found that there is something strangely exciting about a person with confidence, a person who is so comfortable with who he or she is that it becomes this contagious confidence fest. Such a lovely thing confidence is. May we all be ensconced in it. May we all lose ourselves in confidence only to find who we were truly made to be.

Because after all, confidence is key.