Fizzylimon is my favorite

On heros (and heroines)

I've been thinking about the concept of the hero, recently, thinking about what heroics mean, who heros are. I've spent much of my life reading stories, and much of those stories are about heros. Granted, some were bildungsromans (coming of age novels), but many of the books I've read over the years involved a hero. And those books and stories are all well and good. The hope, the wish to be a hero is a good one. We are all unique, and we all have a unique role to play in the story that God has created, and who's to say that I'm not being a hero to someone, just by living my life the way I am, just by keeping to the course that I've set for myself? Who's to say that my smallest decision will not affect someone's life for good forever?

I've turned my back on the classical idea of the hero. I can never be that kind of person, who is so certain and sure about their mission, who sweeps in with strength and courage and saves the day in a flash of glamor and prestige. I'm not the protagonist in a typical fantasy novel, who has adventures and is constantly within an inch of their life, but in the end is victorious, like you always knew they would be. I just am not. I am too unsure, too full of messiness, too tired, too something to be that kind of hero. But. But, there is a kind of hero that I can be.

I've read most, if not all of Robin McKinley's books, and I would recommend them to you if you like fantasy (not Sunshine, or Deerskin, though. Those have bad parts). Her heroines (as well as the hero or two she's written about) are not in the typical hero mold. Not strong, in the typical sense of the word. Not confidant (in fact, often small and insecure). Not certain, or glamorous. The people they help often see them with distrust at first. They are outsiders, they are different. And they only do what they can because they must; there is no one else there, no one else to even try to save the country, village, dragon, world, community. They do what they can, because they must, and it turns out to be enough. They endure, because it is the only thing they can do, and they act when it is the only thing they can do.  In their heroics, they utterly expend themselves. They give up every last bit of their energy in pursuit of their goal, and if it is not enough, then they are dead, but the goal was important enough to them to warrant their last strength. I can't be a typical heroine, but I can be a Robin McKinley heroine. I can't face my fights with certainty in my own prowess, but I can face them with courage and because I must. I can't fight my battles with hope of winning every single one of them, but I can fight them. And I don't know what I'm doing most of the time, but that's okay. God has made me to be me, and my actions flow out of my character, and I have to hope that is enough. I have to hope that my actions, even actions filled with uncertainty, will be enough. And if I am tired all the time, then that is the price I pay.

Who's to say that my life, living quietly for the ones I love, is not more heroic than a man who rescues someone from a burning building? Who's to say that every time that you chose to deny yourself and do the harder thing, you are not being a hero? Who gets to decide?

Who is more heroic, the man who does one courageous deed one time and is forever hailed as a hero, or the man who lives a quiet courageous life, holding out hope in circumstances that tempt him to despair?

There are so many unsung heros in this world, and many who deserve awards and accolades and plaques from their local authorities never receive them. But they are still heros.  James, who has a plaque from the city of Kalamazoo honoring him for his heroic actions (if you don't know the story, ask me about it sometime), doesn't believe that he was the real hero in the situation. He applauds another, who didn't get recognized, but who, he believes, did more to save a life than he did.  The thing is, he was just in the right place in the right time, and did the right thing. And got called a hero for it. His friend, who was also in the right place at the right time and did the right thing, didn't.

How do you know that you are not a hero? It takes courage to face your demons over and over again. It takes courage to live your day-to-day life without despair.  

It Never Rains But it Pours

More bad news, as if Sunday's wasn't bad enough.  Allison's grandmother died this morning.  She's been unwell for a while, but it was still a surprise.  I haven't talked to Allison in ages, actually.  I've seen and talked to her mother, little sister, and brother more recently than I have her.  It still hurts.  Actually, hurts isn't the right word.  It just made me a little more numb, a little sadder, a little less enthusiastic (though at this point, I am on the negative side of neutral about my homework) about forcing my brain to study.  I am enduring these last three or so weeks until summer vacation, because the show must go on.  The why is irrelevant, it simply must.

And I suppose that I am okay, or at least, the most okay I could be in the midst of things in my life right now.  And I am sorry if that is vague, and if you are wondering what news I got on Sunday, but I am not ready to say it, even to you lovely people who read my blog.  Aaron knows.  Alyssa knows.  And I haven't really talked to anyone else this week, about anything, really.  I suppose the term would be preoccupied, if you wanted to describe my mental state right now.

I also have a headache.

On the brighter side, tonight I am going to sign a contract that will give me a place to live next year.  So that's good.  Also, it's beautiful outside.  And I'm wearing a skirt that I really like that swishes when I walk down stairs in a way that makes me think of the way cuttlefish move.  So life is kind of okay right now.  And the weekend is so close.

[I'm pretty sure I'm okay.]

I'm feeling better now than I was earlier.  I slept (kind of) for a couple of hours in a sort of nest thing made of blankets and stuffed animals, shed a tear or two, watched a movie, and ate an astoundingly unhealthy dinner (which I'm regretting).

Today, I am the kind of tired
that originates in your mind and soul
and permeates your muscles and movements
until you walk slow and sad
feet shuffling
on broken pavement.
Today I am the kind of sad
that hot chocolate and movies cannot fix
even though they make it a little better
for a little while.
Today, I am the kind of cold
that requires a jacket or two,
even though the sun is shining,
trying to warm the chilly air.
I want to curl up in a ball,
lay in the sunlight slanting into my room
sleep
forget all of my responsibilities.
I am afraid that I'm isolating myself,
but I can't seem to stop pulling away.

Blogging things

So I just switched to the new blogger.  And I'm not sure if I like it, yet.  At least I understand why Blogger has been acting up periodically for a couple months; they've been implementing new code and stuff.  So that makes sense now.

I also imported all of my posts from my other blog into this one.  I mean, the reason I started the other blog in the first place was because I was shy about sharing my poetry.  Because some of it was mushy and about Aaron, and I was being super shy about him.  But there's not really a reason for the other blog now, so I'm merging the two, and will probably delete the other one, since all the posts (and comments) are now here.  I do want to say that it was super easy to import my blog (once I realized that Safari, not blogger, was the problem), which was nice.

My day has been:

Happy things.
Sad things.
Bad things?
Good things.
Lovely things.

Lovely friends.

"Before my parents left, I remember being slightly alarmed by how indirectly news flowed to and from Clare, Da, Raphael, and even William.  But now, this business of giving and receiving information through third parties makes sense.  Or feels familiar."
I am slightly sad tonight.  Happiness does not always counteract sadness.  They exist, side by side, neither of them affecting the existence of the other.

I am sorry.
I am sorry for your sadness.
I am sorry for your tears.
I am sorry for the way your life seems to be falling apart around you
And the way I do not know how to reach out to you.
Despite how close, we are still so far away.
Despite wanting to bridge the gap
The gap remains.
I love you.
And I know that I don't say it enough, but it's true.
I love you.
We all do, you know.
Know that we love you.
Know that we care.
These tears, tonight, are for you.
And I pray that in your distress, you would reach out to the God of comfort who longs to bring you peace.

Today

It's been another day in which I didn't get what I wanted to/needed to get done done.  Another day of failed opportunities.  I'm tired of this pattern, but I'm starting to wonder if the problem is not my pattern of being unable to get things done and being lazy, but rather my attempts to be someone I'm not or do things that I can't.  Maybe the problem is the fact that I'm trying to do this on my own, too much of the time.  Maybe the problem is that I am not a machine and thus cannot function as one, no matter how hard I try to force myself to.  I try to be efficient, and that's good, up to a point, but it's not everything.  And human beings aren't naturally efficient anyway.

I don't know.  I didn't spend enough time with God this morning, and it showed all day.

And Alyssa's three friends are here this weekend, which is fun and all, but is a little hard on me, cause I'm not really getting true alone time.

And I have homework things that I really need to get done this weekend.  And I haven't really done any work on them.

Things are hard sometimes.  But I know that everything is going to be okay in the end.

It's hard to put into words how much I really, really love my friends.  I just appreciate them so gosh-darn much.  I am so very fond of them.  And I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that we're going to be friends for the rest of our lives and beyond.

Personality Tests Revisited

So one of my favorite Youtubers (I have a lot of favorite youtubers), fizzylimon, just made a video about his personality type, INFJ.


And I was watching this, and I thought, "this sounds a bit like me (especially the internalizing of stress).  I think that I'll retake the Myers-Briggs test."  So I did.  Turns out that I'm actually an IXFJ (or an IS/NFJ), which means that I'm pretty much equally strong in Intuition and Sensing.  So that's interesting.  I guess I'm both a Guardian and a Counselor?  Hmmm.

I miss you.
I miss hot summer nights.
I miss the first time I heard this song and loved it, in the practice rooms behind the band room, when we were supposed to be playing piano, but instead we sometimes snuck out to the park instead and played hooky.  You played it for me, and even though I had heard it before, I loved it because you loved it.
And now, it embodies perfect summer nights.
All the people I've shared secrets with while the cicadas sang.
All the love I've felt while sitting outside under the summer sky.
All the breaths of muggy night air I've breathed.
This song embodies such beauty.
Such love.
Such quiet promises.
(I love you) it whispers.
(I love you)

Everything is all ajlfoahgprnaglbsdfpahwfohwalfghwaohfwoei in my head right now.  Heavy thoughts, friend's burdens, intensity, and yeah.  Only by God's grace are we still going right now.

Another Youtube video!

This is mildly entertaining until 3:42, when it becomes fantastically hilarious and awesome.

Mmm... Words.

The fear* is speaking tonight; AKA An open letter to my friends, but especially to you; AKA Muddled

This was the only video I easily found on youtube with the original of this song.  It's going on your next mixtape, obviously.

Play it while you read this.  It will enhance your reading experience.

*actually, I think everything in my head is speaking tonight.  This is basically unedited, just everything in my head out for your reading pleasure.  Note: A lot of these things, when I'm in a different mood, I don't believe.  Or they don't seem so bleak.  What I'm saying is that you don't need to worry about my mental sanity right now.  But at night, at the end of a day when it seems that despite being productive, I have done nothing worthwhile, the fear speaks.  The worries I have pushed down into my subconscious rise to the surface all muddled and writhing.  Actually, that's their greatest power, the fact that they lie just under my conscious reasoning, and have direct access to my moods and the neurotransmitters that change my emotions.  Once fully examined and worked through, they have no power.  But I have no time, nor energy to deal with them, because they are sapping too much of my time and energy.  A classic catch-22.


So often I find myself unable to form thoughts into words.  The things that I want to say always sound so flat, so uninspired, so insipid and useless, so empty of all of the force and emotion they carry in my mind.  I find myself reading other people's words, and sometimes they help, but so often they don't.  And I long for connection with other people, and when I find that, true connection, I never want it to end, even though I'm an introvert.  Because true, good connection with people who constitute my good friends, that's as good as or better than alone time.  And I spend a lot of time alone.  But yeah.  One of the reasons I'm so cuddly sometimes, why I desire and appreciate physical touch so much, is that sometimes, people only seem real if I'm touching them.  Like I need that tactile sense of their existence.  I pour so much of myself into school, because it demands so much.  I pour myself into my friends, into their needs.  And I keep a little for myself, as a hopefully untouched reserve for those terrible days when nothing goes right and everyone is miserable, and everything is just wrong, wrong, wrong.  Some days I go through life, my brain and heart running on almost empty, but I have nothing to fill it with except rest, which is so far away sometimes.  Some days I go through life with a vague sense of unease, and I am learning to turn to God with that, to ask him what I'm uneasy about, and then pray about it, and give it to him.  But it is so hard sometimes to give those things and people to God.  I just want to hold them tight, to keep a mental and emotional grip on them when I cannot physically be with them.  But I am learning to give them to God, and keep giving them to God, again and again every minute.  I am learning how to live life without using myself up completely, and it mainly means relying on God.  I literally could not survive without God.  I would go completely insane, like mental breakdown insane, sit in a nice room and draw pretty pictures.  We read an article for one of my classes today about a man who cannot remember anything prior to the thought that he is currently thinking, who lives in an eternal now, and who doesn't even realize that he can't remember the past fifteen years of his life.  And for a moment, I envied him.  He had no stress, because he had no memory.  "How happy is the blameless vestal's lot! / The world forgetting, by the world forgot / Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind! / Each pray'r accepted, and each wish resign'd. "  And yet.

All of this makes it sound like I'm in an almost bad mood, or just depressed, or sad, or something.  But I'm not.  I actually had a pretty good day today, and have been on the good side of neutral the past few days.  It's just that all of this comes into my head some nights.  When I am here, and you are there, and it feels like none of my words will ever bridge the gap satisfactorily.  All the words I can summon end up being a prayer asking God to be with you.

And I am aware that most of the time, I am worried about nothing.  I worry all the time, though I try not to, and so it goes subterranean, deep inside of me it accesses my subconscious, and comes out in funny ways, in my eating and sleeping habits, in my late night rambles that I try not to write or say because they are always full of such fear, and I spend my life battling fear.  Fear of being childish, of being unwise, or immature, of not being responsible, of failing in a big way, of not being able to sustain myself, of, I suppose, depending on others too much.  I am so afraid, so much of the time.  And I am so sick of it.  I was talking to one of my friends earlier, and she was talking about how sick and tired she was of all of her issues, those things that she has to fight against every day just to keep functioning.  But God didn't call us to a life of just functioning.  He called us to a life of living, of abundant living.  I get so frustrated sometimes, because I know that I am not living life abundantly.  I know that there is more, but it always seems so far away, so out of reach, somewhere I can just glimpse it but never grasp it.  And I suppose that if I could grasp it by my own efforts, I would forget about God, so he constantly frustrates my attempts to gain real life by other means than himself.  But as I try to access it through him, I run up against my own human frailties.  Which is frustrating and annoying and throughly exasperating.  I honestly cannot wait to shuck off this frail human body, with its ridiculousness and hormones and the muddiness it gives to my thoughts.  The closer I grow to God, the more I see that I am a soul, and I have a body.  And my soul wants to be with God, and my body wants food, sleep, immediate gratification, often things that I know that I (my soul) really doesn't want.

Everything is so complicated sometimes, or rather, is so muddled sometimes, so full of non-clarity and deception, so full of muddiness and messiness and so many darn rules and stupid things.

And so often I wish I had the time to sit down and think all of my thoughts through, to follow them to their conclusions instead of losing the half-finished bits in my dreams.  I wish I had the time to take to craft my sentences, my vowels and consonants, the flow of the words that I speak, so that they maximized the amount I could communicate to others, especially you.  I'm sorry that sometimes I don't take the time.  I'm sorry that I'm only human.


And as I finally decide to go to bed, an hour after my bedtime, I will leave you on a more positive note.  Happy Pi Day!

A hopefully coherent blogpost

Well, it's late(ish).  It's late to me, who normally goes to bed by 12, but I'm not ready to go to bed yet.  I just finished watching The Pandorica Opens and The Big Bang from Doctor Who, which are immensely satisfying and just so good, and have so many fantastic lines and exchanges of dialogue.  Mmmm, so good.  I've spent the afternoon reading and lounging around, watching youtube videos, talking to my friend Ria, and generally relaxing.  And it's been so fantastic to just chill, and try not to think about all of the things that I need to be thinking about.  This evening was about me, and it was just what I needed.  I'm going to sleep well tonight, and won't have an alarm set for the morning.  Though I will probably get up early, because that's what my body is used to, and end up taking a nap later on.  Mmmm, that sounds rather lovely.  I'm comfortably tired, and looking forward to sleeping a long time.  Goodnight, my lovelies.

This is why I appreciate this man so much

I feel mixed up today.  It's beautiful outside, and my window is open.  I'm wearing a dress, which I'm excited and happy about, and I'm listening to some new music that I just bought.  But I realized this morning that the last two times I've gone to the ATM to get money out of my saving account, it took it out of my checking account, which has resulted in my overdrafting my account.  I immediately transferred some of my money from my savings to my checking, but still.  Really Bank? Really?  Stupid.  Ah well.  And I guess this as well.  So I am a mixture of good things and bad things and happy thoughts and sad thoughts today.  But it is gorgeous out, which kind of trumps everything else.

It's going to be a good day, I've decided.

Internet, you are failing your job, which is to amuse me.  I suppose I could go do my homework, which is what I'm trying not to do right now.  I don't want to!  But I know that if I don't right now, I will regret it later.  And I don't want to regret it later.  But I don't want to read about the varied meanings of liturgical processions in 12th century Rome when I'm on Spring Break!  And I am not exaggerating.  That is the exact subject of the articles I have been assigned to read.  Blah!