Shades of Sky

*Jealous of the Sun

2012-02-07T18:10:00.000-06:00

The moon stepped out a little bit early

just to watch the sun set.

As she painted the sky in violet and wine,

he sat back with a sigh,

content to spend his night alone with the stars,

basking in the glorious memory of the brightest.

sincerely, sarah

*The Echo

2012-02-06T20:00:00.001-06:00

too much

and not enough.

sincerely, sarah

*Shoes

2012-02-06T00:08:00.001-06:00

beaten, bedraggled, jaded,

and now alone.

at the end of the road,

here stands one without the other

longing for the other

pointless without the other.

sincerely, sarah

*Tremors and Faults

2012-02-05T23:53:00.001-06:00

sincerely, sarah

*How Did They Know You?

2012-02-02T07:39:00.000-06:00

If I tell you I’m in love with you, you’ll have to forgive me.

You see, I’ve been reading a lot of poetry lately

and somehow it all seems to be about you.

sincerely, sarah

*In Your Stead

2012-02-02T00:28:00.001-06:00

the birdsong that signals the morning

the scent of rain that precedes the storm

the shock felt before fingers reach cold metal

the sight of the first star that signals the nighttime

the zing of citrus as it nears the teeth and infiltrates the nostrils

the perpetual resonance from a bell’s last chime

the smell of fall as the leaves wave goodbye

the feel of skin on the first warm day of spring

the brilliant colors that remain even after the sun has set

the taste of coffee still on the tongue long after the cup has been drained

the song that I can’t get out of my head

the lingering scent left carried with me everywhere I go

the place where my hands are made to intertwine with another

the picture burned on the backs of my eyelids

the word always caught on the tip of my tongue

it’s you

It’s you.

sincerely, sarah

*Tangled Measurements

2012-01-28T03:17:00.001-06:00

We reach, and yet,

In the empty space from my fingertips and yours,

This is where the longing lives,

Desire tangled amidst heartlines and fingerprints,

Longing counted out in the number atoms

between our outstretched hands.

The heartache measured in the units of time it takes

before our muscles tremble,

drop,

fall,

until we can reach no more.

sincerely, sarah

*Written in the Fog

2012-01-28T00:28:00.000-06:00

I used to write poems about life.

About reaching and growing,

About laughing and crying,

About living and dying…

I used to write poems of substance.

But lately, all of my poems have been about…you.

I wish there was some way to write it in a letter,

Just to get it out.

I wish it was possible to write the perfect poem, the perfect message

To clear my mind of the all-consuming fog you have become.

But it seems there is no cure.

Words don’t have the power to summarize this.

And even if I wrote the perfect letter,

It would still be just another letter left unsent.

You see, what I feel comes across in my words even more than in my thoughts

And what I feel carries far too much gravity to float out easily.

But clearly it is far too vast to remain unshared,

Clearly it is far too big to bury in the back of my mind,

Along with those skeletons in the closet and the bones left unpicked,

Under the grains of sand that make up each moment.

Clearly it won’t lay to rest until it has been expressed,

But I don’t think I can express it very well,

And I’m not sure how its message will be received…

But I guess here it goes:

I wish there was a way to tell you that I love you

With the same persistence with which the tide loves the shore.

I wish it was possible to tell you that I love you

With all of the endurance of the waves that rise and crash and never cease.

I wish I was able to tell you about this paradox of ocean and sand.

I wish it was okay to tell you that you are

The most beautiful paradox that I have ever known.

I wish there was a way to say all of this

And lay it to rest peacefully in the depths of whatever is flowing between us

without breaking the tide.

Mostly, I wish there was a way for me to say this without coming off…

Creepy.

See, I’m not a stalker, I swear,

But sometimes I wish that I could be where you are,

Just for the chance of seeing you smile.

And I swear I’m not clingy,

I just cling to the hope that somehow

life will reveal to you a fraction of the happiness that you’ve shown me.

People ask how it works,

But I don’t think it can be explained.

I think that’s how it gets ruined.

The truth is, I don’t know how not to love you.

I don’t know how not to want the world for you

I want everything for you,

But sometimes there is one small thing that I want for me too.

I want to be able to hold your hand,

Because I think hand-holding is the most powerful thing there is.

Hand-holding is the most tangible way to remind someone that,

even just for a moment,

they are not alone.

That in that moment, they are loved.

I want to be able to do this for you,

Because as hard as I try to convince you with these words,

I think you still have trouble believing me.

Every now and then I can feel you floating away,

And all I want is to grab your hand to help keep you anchored.

So here I am speaking to an audience the words meant for your ears

The words that can’t be shared for fear of rocking the boat

So if you hear me, remind me that the sky’s still blue

That the world keeps turning,

And that the sun refuses not to shine,

Even when smothered and hidden and covered.

If you hear me, take a moment to center—

To remember these things for yourself,

To listen to the tide reaching once again for the shore.

sincerely, sarah

Author's Note: I wrote this a few months ago, but just realized I never posted it here.

*If a Writer Falls in Love With You...

2012-01-22T17:20:00.001-06:00

You

When a writer falls in love with you, you become immortal.
When a writer falls in love with you, you become the unwitting inspiration of a whole mess of spilled ink. You become all nine muses to a lone typewriter. You become the lyrics to a melody, the syllables of iambic pentameter, the plotline of a fantastic adventure. One day you will be reading and you will find yourself trapped in the middle of pages. When a writer falls in love with you, you will find yourself in lives you never lived and characters you never knew. The writer won't always intend for you to be there, but you will find yourself in the little things... a background character with a similar lisp, familiar flecks of green in the eyes of a hero, a stupid joke you once told now immortalized in ink. The ring you always wear on the middle finger of your right hand will suddenly appear on a character who shares no physical attributes with you-- but you are there in the subtleties. You'll discover yourself in narrators and scapegoats and irrelevant side-characters: all characters who aren't you, but whose hair bears an incredible likeness to yours, or who love the same absurd Swedish rap band, or who cry at the same old Disney movie, or whose third tooth is chipped just like yours. Sometimes you will find yourself blushing at an obvious reveal-- a love interest that could not bear more likeness to yourself, or a poem that so directly describes your situation that you can't help but assume, or a character that sounds like you except a thousand times better than you ever thought of yourself. Other times, you won't even recognize the subtle characteristics that relate this character to the love the author feels for you.
You see, when a writer falls in love with you, their words will reveal you in ways you had never imagined yourself. When a writer falls in love with you, you may sometimes find yourself at the end of a loaded pen; you may find yourself holding a piece of paper on which your writer has inscribed the universe in a few lines. You may find yourself with words that overwhelm you. If a writer truly falls for you, you may become the unknowing recipient of hidden love letters composed of stars and light. You may even be lucky enough to be the knowing recipient of a love letter in which you are painted in shades of sky. The writer won't intend to make you so visionary, but they won't really be able to help it, because suddenly the words they treasure so dearly cease to be enough. They'll write to you and about you, over and over-- on pages full of scribbles and crossed out lines, because in their minds, they will be repeatedly failing to do you justice.
If a writer falls in love with you, they will begin to see you everywhere. There will be obvious comparisons in the writer's mind between the two of you and the couples in every book read and movie watched. But more than that, your writer will start to find you in day to day moments. You will be thought of as autumn leaves are gently lifted into the wind. You will be remembered in cool breezes on hot summer days and warm fires on cold winter evenings. To the writer that cares, your laugh will be present in the pitter-patter of spring rain on dry earth. You will be remembered likewise as the ribbon of the typewriter spins. The front of the mind, the tip of the pen-- that's where you will be. Even if your place in the life of a writer is ephemeral, if you are loved, you are eternal. When a writer loves you, they cannot help but write about you as they discover you in the universe around them.
When a writer loves you, you can never die, because long after you are gone, those words will remain, and in them, you-- immortalized in ink.

sincerely, sarah

Soundtrack: Joshua Radin and Scott Fleenor

Author's note: Special thanks to Emily Peebles. Because of her, this has become the foreword to a collection I am writing.

New Years Resolutions

2012-01-02T00:37:00.000-06:00

Make healthier choices.

I'm not going to make a set limit (i.e. "go to the gym every day" "only eat healthy food" etc), because those sorts of resolutions are made to be broken. All in all, I just want to make smarter, healthier choices this year. I want to be healthier and more in shape.

Read.

Read a lot. Read as often as possible. Read a little bit every day. Fiction, nonfiction, anything. Culture myself with as much literature as possible.

Work on my relationships with the people I care about.

Seriously. Devote myself to my friends and my family. Give them one on one time, not distracted by television or texting. Listen. Give them advice when they need it, but listen more, because they are for more likely to need that.

Write more.

Write stand up bits. Write poetry. Write stories. Write essays. Blog. Anything, everything-- write about it.

Devote myself to learning guitar.

Really really, learn it. Not just bits and pieces, really devote myself to learning and playing.

Love more, judge less.

this doesn't really need an explanation

Spend time in prayer every day.
Invite others to Christ

sincerely, sarah

*What are you doing New Year's Eve?

2012-01-01T04:28:00.001-06:00

New Years is my all time favorite holiday. It’s all about hope. And promise and courage. The hope for what is to come, the promise of a new year, and the courage to face it. It’s also about realizing how much you’ve been given. It stands there and shouts, “Just look at you! You made it. You’ve survived every trial thrown at you this year. More importantly, you were given a whole year more and blessings that filled it, all planned specially for you.” And then, at least for that one moment, you are promised a whole new year, and everything that comes with it.

I’ve never missed a televised ball drop, but more importantly, I’ve never missed a New Years sunrise. Most people see the kick off to the New Year at the ball-drop, but for me it’s the sunrise. Sunrises are my favorite, but the New Years sunrise is the best. The first sunrise of the year. The sun rising on a New Year. It’s not even corny; it’s just beautiful. You don’t take pictures. You don’t film it. You don’t document the New Years sunrise; you just live it.

I have a bucket list and as of this moment, it consists of only two things:

Watch the ball drop live from the heart of Time Square.
See the London Eye New Years firework display from the Westminster Bridge.

So welcome to my favorite holiday. Happy New Year, everyone :)

sincerely, sarah

*Gentlemen, It's Time to Step Up

2011-12-28T13:43:00.003-06:00

I am a lady. That is one of the few things I am guaranteed in this life and yet daily I find the accompanying qualities and rights being stripped away from this status. I'm not here to push old-fashioned gender roles on you or to say that women belong in the home while men belong in the workplace. I can barely cook and I hate cleaning. I am a student at university. I blow off steam at the shooting range. Clearly, I'm not one for gender stereotypes. However, there is one aspect of this that I believe must be called to attention: When women do not view themselves as ladies, there is nothing calling men to be gentlemen. If women do not expect chivalry, there is no reason for men to comply to it. If we,as women, do not respect ourselves, how can we expect men to?

"God created man in His own image, in the image of God He created him; male and female He created them." (Genesis 1:27)

Women reflect the beauty and mystery of the infinitely beautiful and mysterious God. But what mystery do we leave if we allow our beauty to be openly unveiled and trampled on? And what is the purpose of unveiling this beauty if we expect no respect or awe in return? Not only do women reflect the beauty and mystery of God, but we are also born reflecting one of the deepest desires of His heart: the desire to be pursued. The desire to be admired, to be loved and sought after with all of a man's heart. We want that so desperately. We want a King Arthur willing to ride off to battle and fight in our name. We want an Odysseus, willing to fight off all temptation and even wait years, crossing seas and trials to return to us. We want a Mr. Darcy, willing to put everything, even his dignity, on the line for our sake. And yet so many women these days toss their heart out on a line, waiting for anyone with a kind word who comes and takes the bait. I mean no disrespect; I have been repeatedly guilty of this offense against my own heart. Women are built with such an immense capacity to love and be loved, and all too often, we grow impatient. We allow our love to be trampled on and try to cover what is missing by attempting to stitch together love out of a man's kind words or friendly gestures.

So, reader, here is where I stand. I am a woman, and therefore I am a lady. I deserve to be treated as such and I believe this with all of my heart. My affections for any man will not make his return of them any simpler. I refuse to toss my heart out and see if I can rein someone in with it. I will not bait someone with bare affections anymore than I will fall into a trap laid with them. I could believe a man put the stars in the sky, and I would still expect in him a willingness to fight for me. He could be the prince of England and I would still expect to be pursued. It doesn't matter if he is "out of my league" or even "what a great guy" he is, because if he truly is these things, then the willingness of the gentleman to seek the lady will not be in question. Because any man unwilling to work to gain my affections surely does not deserve my heart. If he is not willing to fight for me from the beginning, I can only expect to be left to my own defenses when later battles arise. I don't want a knight in shining armor; I want a man in well-worn chain mail, still muddied from battle. I am a lady and this is my right.

sincerely, sarah

*The Love of the Ocean

2011-12-20T18:59:00.001-06:00

I find myself equating love to the ocean frequently. In all of the metaphors I create on love, nearly every one centers on the ocean. Why is that?

The ocean is boundless. You can no more measure the water in the ocean than the stars in the sky. The ocean is persistent. It continues to reach for the shore no matter how many times it is pulled back. The ocean is never the same. There is never the same amount of life/color/water in the ocean as there was the second before; it is in a constant state of change and growth. I imagine love to be something like swimming and sinking. You do what you can to keep your head above the surface, but eventually you must succumb to learn what lies beneath the surface. It is all-encompassing. Rivers lead back to the ocean. Water in the rain was at one point water in the ocean. All land is bordered by ocean. The ocean bends and breaks and creates. It rises and crashes, but never, ever ceases.

What else is there to love?

sincerely, sarah

*Possibilities

2011-12-20T18:57:00.002-06:00

is it possible to fall

in love

with words?

to fall in love with someone

because of their words?

to fall into the oceans of their vocabulary

the seas of their vernacular

the rivers of the diction

and drown?

blissfully, peacefully

sincerely, sarah

*Reach

2011-12-02T01:14:00.001-06:00

Of all of the touching sites to see, I've come to the realization that the simple action of reaching may be the most powerful. There is something so terribly heartbreaking about an outstretched hand unable to reach its goal, something so beautiful in the way that desire is expressed in every defined line and outstretched muscle. There is such a connection between that reach and the object of it's longing. When you yearn for something, you reach for it-- if not with hand, than with heart. This is the natural response. Even outside of humanity, there is something so beautiful in the way that a flower never stops reaching for the sun, in the way the tide never ceases reaching for the toes of those on the shore, or in the way that every mountain reaches daily for the sky.

Everything that's ever lived
was reaching for the sky,
yet everything that's ever lived
has lived afraid to die

sincerely, sarah

Soundtrack: "Reach" by Andrew Belle

*Life Through My Eyes

2011-11-30T11:33:00.000-06:00

On my way back from class just now, I found myself walking next to this hulking Hagrid of a linebacker with dreadlocks and a grizzly, grim expression. After a couple minutes of walking, we both turned a corner and there stood this huge group of children. Probably around the age of four years old, each child was holding on to a piece of rope that kept them together and kept them clustered behind their teacher. What they were doing here I will probably never know, but if you could have seen the light in the eyes of the man beside me, it wouldn't matter to you either. We saw them at the same time and the affect was instant. I immediately noticed a couple of the kids waving in our direction, and, turning to follow their eyes, I found this stone giant smiling, making silly faces and waving. As we passed them, I saw him make eye contact with the smallest boy of the bunch, wink, and wave. The little boy put on the biggest grin he could manage and responded with a thumbs up that lasted as long as it took us to walk past. The linebacker looked at me, shook his head happily, and smiled.
Soon after this, we ended up parting ways. As soon as that happened though, I found myself passing several people I know. The people I passed were not friends-- merely acquaintances-- but that made no difference. Recently, I have begun to learn the power of eye contact. You can see someone's whole universe in their eyes. When eyes meet, a further, more internal, introduction takes place. Even if it is someone you have never met before, looking in their eyes begins to reveal them to you. Have you ever made eye contact with someone who was crying? Whether you are acquainted with them or not, it is enough to hurt your soul. When you make eye contact with someone and the smile, it is almost impossible not to smile back-- not just to fake a smile in response, but to truly feel their happiness flowing from their gaze.
As I have been discovering the power of eye contact, I have also been discovering how terrible I am at maintaining it. I like to believe that I am a good listener. I actively listen. I look at people when they are talking to me. I will look at someone's eyes if they are not looking back at me. But when it comes to eye contact, I am easily scared off. For some reason, maintaining a lock with someone else's gaze makes me incredibly uncomfortable. Thinking about it, I know very few people's eye color, even among my closest friends and family. I consider myself confident, but by not making eye contact, I am able to hide. Maybe I'm scared of what someone will find if I open that window. Maybe I'm scared of what I will find in the eyes of someone else. There are people in my life (two that I am thinking of at the moment), who are very good at eye contact. Whenever they are talking or listening to me, I can feel their eyes on mine. Whenever I look up at them, their gaze is their, ready to meet mine. This is a very attractive quality in a person, and I mean this not in a cliche way, but in the sense that I am drawn to and in awe of people who have this ability. I want to be able to maintain eye contact with the person to whom I am speaking. I want to be able to lend them the support of my eyes as I listen to them speak. But I constantly shy away. I share everything with these people. I trust them with my secrets, with my life, but not with my eye contact. I can allow them to see my heart through my words, but for some reason, I keep the blinds drawn across the window to my soul. What a shame. What a waste. How much I am missing out on and how much I hold back! I suppose I have something to work on, don't I?

sincerely, sarah

*Remind Yourself of This

2011-11-19T23:23:00.000-06:00

"You have ravished my heart, my sister, my bride;
you have ravished my heart with one glance of your eyes,
with one bead of your necklace.
How beautiful is your love, my sister, my bride,
how much more delightful is your love than wine..."

~Song of Solomon 4:9-10

The God of the universe is in love with me. He does not simply tolerate me. He doesn't love me out of obligation. He doesn't overlook my stains because he has to. He doesn't just love me. He is in love with me.

He loves me as though I am the only one. He overlooks my flaws, because they mean nothing in comparison to his love for me. He looks on me with all of the love that an infinite God has to offer. He looks at me and sees the object of his affections. He looks upon my face and finds me alluring; he looks upon my heart and finds me captivating. The heart of my Savior longs for me. Just as there is a place in my heart that only he can fill, there is a place in his heart for me alone-- a hole that I alone can occupy. The Creator of all is madly and fiercely in love with me.

In place of chocolates and flowers, he sends me the smiles of strangers and laughter and "the little things". In place of love letters, he sends me every love song ever composed and a sunset every night. In place of hugs and kisses, he sends me literature and friendship and good days. In place of phone calls, he gives me time to pray. In place of text messages, I have his Word. In place of date nights, I get Mass and confession and adoration.

He invented romance and he knows my heart. He looks on me with love and gives his everything to be with me. He longs for me when I stray and desperately awaits my return. He loves me with a pure love-- an unconditional, all-consuming, everlasting love.

The God of the Universe is irrevocably and passionately in love with me.

sincerely, sarah

*Am I Lovely?

2011-11-13T10:36:00.002-06:00

“Little girls want to know, Am I lovely? The twirling skirts, the dress up, the longing to be pretty and to be seen–that is what that’s all about. We are seeking an answer to our Question…Nearly all a woman does in her adult life is fueled by her longing to be delighted in, her longing to be beautiful, to be irreplaceable, to have her Question answered, “Yes!”
~Captivating, John & Stasi Eldredge

I have been so very fortunate to be raised by two parents who loved and delighted in me. When I was about three, I would put on my father's boots, my mother's raincoat, and my own mardi gras beads and stand in the middle of our living room and sing terribly. Both of my parents took delight and pride in me. My whole life, my parents have delighted in me and have never missed a chance to tell me that they love me and that they are so proud to call me theirs. My daddy has been there to tell me how beautiful I am at all the right moments. The wounds against my beauty did not come from my home, but that's not to say they did not occur at all.

Enter middle school. I was harshly bullied, by my whole grade, but particularly by one girl. She threatened my life. She told me that everyone hated me. She made school an unsafe place for me. But of all the things she did and said, what is it that has stuck with me-- haunted me-- all these years? Her attack on my beauty. "I've hated you since the day I saw your face, and don't even get me started on your ugly face." For several years after this, I ceased to believe that I was worthy of anyone's love. I did not believe that I was good enough for anyone's love, that I was pretty enough for anyone to love. From that day, from just those few words and the implication behind them, I ceased to believe in my own beauty. Maybe God had made just one mistake when He made me. Those were the things that 13 year old me believed.

Fast-forward a couple of years. 16 year old me is sitting in the orthodontist's office being told that I need serious jaw surgery. Why? Not for any reason of health, but because it will make me prettier. Because if I want to act, this surgery is what stands between me and being enough. Have you ever had a doctor tell you that you were surgically not pretty enough? Not even a plastic surgeon...my orthodontist. This man planted in my mind the direct connection between this surgery and my beauty. He made it very obvious to me that this surgery would make me beautiful and that without it, I would fall short all my life. And might I add, this surgery is no little procedure. It is a two year process involving braces and the breaking of your jaw in three places. But he made me believe that it was vital.

I would be lying if I told you that these things do not still haunt me. The words of that over-dramatic thirteen year old girl still ring in my head when I question myself. I look in the mirror and I see... not enough. See, I started to list off my flaws here, but I realized that if I started I would never stop. And I realized that maybe, just maybe, you hadn't noticed one or two of them and I certainly don't want to point them out to you. There is rarely a day that goes by when I don't think about that surgery, when I am not tempted to run back to that doctor and get that surgery done. When I don't land an audition, I wonder...maybe if I was prettier...maybe if I got that surgery. When I'm lonely, I think maybe someone would want to date me if I just had that surgery. Maybe if I had that surgery I would be pretty and then I would be worthy of being loved.

I'm not proud of these thoughts. I'm not proud of them at all. In fact, this is probably my greatest source of shame. See, I truly believe in the beauty of every woman. I believe that each woman is made to reflect the radiance of our God. But I am a hypocrite. I believe in the beauty of every woman. I believe that God finds me beautiful. But do I feel lovely? Do I believe that I am beautiful? Most days, the answer is no.

"Satan fell because of beauty. Now his heart of revenge is to assault beauty" (Captivating).

If you struggle with your self-image, you are not alone. Some of the most beautiful women I have ever met have great trouble believing that they are even worthy of being looked at. This is one of Satan's greatest footholds in a woman's heart. If he can make her believe she isn't beautiful, he is a step away from making her believed she isn't loved. If he makes her believe she isn't loved, he is a step away from making her believe she is unlovable. If he makes her believe she is unlovable, then he has every entrance into her soul.

sincerely, sarah

*Falling is the Easy Part

2011-10-31T23:48:00.002-05:00

You're standing on the edge of a cliff. You put your toes to the edge and hold your breath as you gaze over. The abyss before you is bottomless. It's dark down there....so far down. So why on earth should you jump? Because we have a God who promises to catch us, who asks for nothing but our trust, who asks only that we be willing to throw ourselves daily into His arms. So do you do it? What happens if you do? What happens if you choose to take that leap of faith right into the unknown abyss?

What happens is this: you fall. You fall and you are caught in the arms of Mercy and Grace. You're afraid of falling? Honey, falling is the easy part. Why? Because falling into God makes as much sense as falling into gravity. Falling into God means opening yourself up to an endless, unfailing stream of love. When you fall into the Father, you fall head-over-heels into a love that bears no fear of unrequittal. You are allowing yourself to enter into a relationship with Someone who will always want what is best for you, who will never fail you, who will always love you more. What could possibly be easier than that?

It's the anticipation that's the killer. The moment before. The suspense. The build up. Isn't that the case with everything? The psych-out you take yourself through in the moments before an injection. The last minute before an exam when you've put away the study guide but do not yet have the test and everything is totally out of your control. We are human, and for such flawed and out of control beings, we sure love power. We constantly want to feel in control-- of our relationships, of our religion, of our lives. The irony of it is that even when we feel in control, we aren't. We're human. We have no way of knowing what is coming tomorrow. We are no more in control of our lives than the leaf is of where the wind takes it. Human-- short-sighted, selfish, and flawed.

Luckily for us we belong to a God who is none of the above, who sees the big picture, is selfless, and is flawless. We are the creation of a Creator who has a plan, a plan to prosper us and not to harm us, plans to give us hope and a future (Jeremiah 29:11). There is nothing random about the way in which He made us. Every hair, every smile, every "lucky" moment, every circumstance was intentional. When we think we're in control, God is really just taking a moment to appease us, humbly fading into the background as the puppet takes the applause of the Man with the strings. Of course this is a flawed analogy; we are not simply a mindless object on the end of the string. In His humility, our Creator gave us freewill. The Man who gave us everything, who filled our lungs with breath, and who loved us with every fiber of His infinite being, gives us the option not to love Him in return. The One who gave us eyes to see, ears to hear, and hearts to love, gives us the opportunity to turn our backs to Him completely. Why? Because He doesn't want to force our love. So He waits. He does not wait idly, however. As we turn away, He loves us all the more. He stands just behind us, arms outstretched, positively radiating with love. All we are required to do is turn around.

So here we are again, on the edge of the cliff, facing the wrong direction. Do we turn and jump? Why not? Our God promises to be there when we fall. He asks only that we trust Him; surely He is worthy of that. So there it is: God is worthy...jump. Choose each day to take that leap of faith and trust Him to lead you through. I'm not saying that it is any easy choice, and unfortunately it is not one we can simply make and move on from. The choice to jump is a daily one. The choice to trust Love must be made again and again. But I can promise you this, the build up is the scary part. Choose to trust, choose to love, choose to jump and it's a freefall from there.

Every morning when I wake up, I start my day with prayer. Nothing extensive, actually just eight words. But those eight words are everything. They are the difference between whether I have a good day or a bad day, whether I am fooling myself into thinking I have it all figured out or trusting the One who knows best. "Father, into Your hands I commend my spirit." Those were Jesus's last words on the cross and those are my first words every day. With this prayer, I acknowledge that I do not know best. I give myself over to God's plan for that day and my life. With those words, I take the leap of faith into the scary, vast unknown, and let myself be caught by the strength of perfect love.

sincerely, sarah

Maker of sun and moon and stars
I throw myself into Your arms
So I fall into You, I’m desperate and weak
Crying out from my heart, take all of me
~Phil Wickham, "Fall into You"

*If you're looking for love, you're doing it wrong.

2011-10-24T17:40:00.001-05:00

So here they are,
Sarah's Five Simple Rules for Finding Love

#1 Love is about loving a person, not a relationship.
When you begin to avidly seek love, things may go well for awhile. You have your checklist, things you are looking for, maybe certain qualifications your "perfect" guy or gal must meet. But they don't stay this way for long. We aren't programmed to make our own standards, because when we do, they quickly become inhuman. Don't misunderstand me. I am not saying that you should have low standards. I do not think it is the "highness" of our standards that tends to make them inhuman; simply, an inherent wrongness. We put a price on looks and a ticket on the sound of a laugh. We assign a point system to qualities and value a sense of perfection. But as I said, these standards are inhuman, thus they are unmet.
So what happens next? Standards get lowered. A girl will seek to impress a man she was never interested in. A guy will "befriend" any girl who smiles in his direction. Suddenly the value of a relationship is heightened greatly above that of the other person involved. We want to be loved, and to love, caring little as to what human fills that void. This sort of "love" is selfish and self-serving. It cares not for the person and everything for the self. I am getting love. I am giving love. I am in love. Everything revolves around the I...as long as I am getting what I need out of the relationship (dot dot dot). When you pursue a relationship rather than a person, you devalue another human being and ultimately, devalue yourself.

#2 You cannot force someone to love you.
When we are seeking a relationship, we often find ourselves latching onto someone we see as a possibility. We take a friendship and instead of allowing things to happen as they will and appreciating what we have, we begin to try and feed the fire by blowing smoke. We do things and say things for the purpose of impressing the object of our affections. We change our interests, even our personalities, just to catch their eye. Even if jumping through flaming rings catches their eye, it will never catch their heart. Changing yourself for someone leads to complications for your relationship and your own life later on. A foundation of lies and half-truths won't last long before crumbling. Trying to capture someone and rope them into loving you is even less effective. You can capture a body; you cannot capture a soul
"You simply can't make someone love you if they don't. You must choose someone who already loves you. If you choose someone who does not love you, this is the sort of love you must want." ~Israel Horovitz

#3 Looking back on life, what story will you tell?
If you are the person who must constantly be in a relationship, who bounces from one relationship to another, what will you look back on? Would you rather tell your future spouse about a few rare gems who captured your soul, or a thousand randoms who captured your intimacy? I am not saying you shouldn't date, simply reminding you to guard your heart. Not every person that comes along is the right one. Do not seek the affections of people who mean nothing to you, and do not give them in return. Value yourself and require others to do so as well.

#4 Love is about being found, not finding.
You deserve to be sought after. Love is about a give and take. If you are the one doing all the seeking, you aren't getting what you deserve. If you spend all your time out seeking, you may walk right past the person who is seeking you. Out there somewhere is a person who needs someone just like you. If you change yourself in seeking another person, you deprive them of that. You are you, you are unique, and someone somewhere needs that. Let them find it. If you spend all your time running around chasing people, you'll miss out on a lot of life, and the person missing out on you may not even get to see you run by. Let them find you. Not to say that you shouldn't reciprocate at all-- again, love is about the give and take-- but don't waste your time seeking someone who doesn't want to find you just as much.

#5 Wait for the best.
You deserve the best, and let's be honest: you're no particularly great discoverer. You deserve the best and you probably won't be able to find that for yourself, because when I say you deserve the best, I mean of everything. You deserve someone who sees the very best in you. You deserve someone who wants the best for you, even if they don't think the best for you is them. You deserve someone who loves your flaws as much as they love the rest of you, because they recognize that your flaws are what keep you anchored to this earth. You deserve someone who thinks of you often and thinks of you fondly, who wonders what you are doing and hopes that only the best things are happening to you, even though they know that isn't realistic. You deserve someone that will let you cry when the best things aren't happening, and who will do everything they can to make it better. You deserve a someone who will protect you from your fears and help you rise above them. You deserve someone who will encourage you to strive for your dreams and who will catch you if you fall. You deserve someone who respects you. You deserve someone you can fight with, but who will admit their mistakes and not boast when you admit yours. You deserve someone who makes you so, so happy-- butterflies in the stomach, fireworks in the eyes, walking on sunshine happy. So wait for that.

sincerely, sarah

soundtrack: Ben Rector

*Date a Girl Who Reads

2011-10-22T03:26:00.000-05:00

I'm making one of my very few exceptions. Very, very rarely do I dedicate entire posts to something I did not write, but I'm going to do that now. This gives girls like me hope--hope that somewhere out there, there is a Mr. Darcy, a Neville Longbottom, a Peter Pevensie, a Henry Tilney. Most importantly though, it gives us hope that somewhere out there is a man for each of us who will be patient with us.
Unfortunately, dating a girl who reads requires much of a man. He must be patient, he must be understanding, and he must be imaginative. He must be a man who is willing to do silly things for the name of love and a good story. A man who will be willing to read the books we love the most. A man who will understand when we lose ourselves for a few days into a far off world trapped between pages. A man who will understand when the death of a beloved character brings us to tears, though they may not be real to them. A man who will listen to us go on for hours about some author or another. He must understand that he will be written about-- if not directly, than at least by inspiration. He must be willing to be dragged through a bookstore, because the adventure of it all would be too much not to share.

Not too much to ask, is it? ;)

sincerely, sarah

You Should Date a Girl Who Reads
By: Rosemarie Urquico

Date a girl who reads. Date a girl who spends her money on books instead of clothes, who 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 has found the book she wants. You see that weird chick sniffing the pages of an old book in a secondhand book shop? That’s the reader. They can never resist smelling the pages, especially when they are yellow and worn.
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, for anniversaries. Give her the gift of words, in poetry and 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 read understand that all things must come to end, but 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.

*Mad World

2011-10-16T00:45:00.003-05:00

“The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn, like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes "Awww!”

~Jack Kerouac

THESE are the people I am drawn to. These are the people I want to spend my life with. PASSIONATE PEOPLE. People who wake up every morning, excited about something. It does not matter in the slightest what that passion is, be it human rights, literature, science, music, art, religion, love, anything. There are people who hear a song and illuminate. There are people who discover a problem and will not rest until they find a solution. People who can define every outline of what they believe in. People who will throw paint at a canvas in fury and then ever so gently brush in the finest details. People who step on a stage and immediately find their home.

These people are fascinating to me. You could listen to a passionate person talk for hours, because their passion pours into you on the breath of each word the speak. Their excitement is infectious; their perpetual smile, contagious. Even if you don't share their interest in a subject, you listen to them go on for hours with an enthusiasm that nearly matches theirs. How could you not? Who are you to do anything to hinder that sort of ardor? Who am I to stand in the way of their zeal?

Ultimately, in some way, shape, or form, a passion for anything is a passion for life. A passion for anything wakes a person up in the morning and gets them going. It makes them smile at intermittent points in the day for what seems like no reason at all. It gives them hope even when they feel like they should have none. It makes the dark days brighter and the bright days radiant. Passion is hope. Passion is courage. Passion is love and zeal and happiness. Passion is everything. And who can deny someone who has the whole world at their command?

“When Johann Sebastian Bach was nine years old, he copied out an entire library of music. He sneaked out of his bedroom, went downstairs, quietly turned the metal circle that lifted the latch and worked quickly in a blaze of moonlight. The passions we cannot control are the ones that define us.”

~Simon Van Booy, Everything Beautiful Began After

So what am I defined by? A passion for people and their importance and their rights. A passion for my faith and for God and for His love that compels me. A passion for theatre and acting and the ability to be whoever I want. A passion for books and reading and the fairytale world they take me to. A passion for writing and the written word and the ways I can spin them to express myself. These things are what make me, me. These are the things I define myself by and the things I am so proud to call mine.

sincerely, sarah

soundtrack: Bossanova

*And Then You Love Someone

2011-10-15T04:42:00.000-05:00

http://sincerelysarahliz.blogspot.com/2010/04/old-writing-all-in-transit.html

I wrote this poem years ago, but it's theme is still so relevant. . . and so is the fear I had not yet admitted to myself at that point. I have served as the transition friend for so many, many people. Overall, I understand. I know how necessary that role has been. But every time it happens it tears me apart just a little bit because I let myself get so close.
See, it works like this: Someone is struggling with something or working through some issues and they need a listening ear, a shoulder to cry on, someone to help carry them through, etc. Something about me makes it very easy for people to tell me things, which very easily creates deep relationships. In becoming close with them and helping them with their struggles, I take part of their load off of them. We are close as long as they are working through it all. However, the moment they are through working through everything or the moment they decide they no longer care, they cannot be around me anymore. It is nothing I personally did, but because I helped to bear that burden, I now carry the stigma of a past that they no longer wish to think of. Being around me serves as a constant reminder of whatever issues they have chosen to leave behind; therefore, I, too, get left behind. I really do understand. I know that this is what they need. It is not any person's fault that they subconsciously associate me with these things.
But that doesn't make it hurt any less. And God, does it hurt. So, so much. Because, you see, when someone shares a bit of their soul with you, you in turn share a bit of yours with them. It is inherent. It is automatic and instinctual. These people that leave aren't just people I was helping; they are people who, whether or not they realized it, were truly helping me. Over the years, this has happened with an innumerable amount of people. They don't mean anything by leaving. I'm sure it is really necessary for whatever state of mind they have reached, but sometimes it's like they forgot to return that bit of me before they left.
This is my biggest fear...that the people I love will leave me. It's not irrational either, because so many of them have-- some by choice, some by circumstance, some by parting with this world altogether and out of their control. I have strict policy against names on this blog, but the list would be long. To be honest, this is why I have so, so many shallow friendships these days: because if I don't get too attached, it won't hurt if they disappear. My fear remains though with the ones I am close with. Every time I share a bit more of myself, every time I get more attached, my fear grows because I know that with that additional step comes greater pain when something ultimately happens.

Here, I am going to share Cate's thoughts on all of this, because they literally brought me to tears:

You just love too much (not in the romantic way, in the friend way). It's one of the most beautiful things about you, but it comes at a great personal cost. You have a way of connecting with people in a really deep way very quickly. You just seem to understand them and you understand what they need and you understand how to help them get what they need. But like you said once they've fixed their problem or whatever, they leave you behind. And it's terrible for you. You could stop loving people, but that's not really in your nature nor is it something you can really control. So you're kinda stuck in this position. . . My absolute favorite trait of yours is your ability to connect with and understand people. It's a rare gift.

~~I don't understand this. Or how I do it. Or why. But I want to use it.~~
I just realized what it is. And it's so simple I actually laughed at how it has taken me years to figure out. It's as natural as this: I was raised knowing, in my heart, a secret that very few people ever learn. Even that secret is so very simple. The secret is this: the incredible and irrevocable importance of every single person. How obvious! This is why I love people. This is why I want to help people. Because I know how very, very important they are even when they do not-- especially when they do not. Easy as that. If you knew this-- really, truly knew and believed it, how could you not love somebody? How could you not sacrifice everything to help them?
And again Cate's words bring me to tears:

It's not that just you know it. Like on some level it's something we all "know". But you believe it. With every fiber of your being you believe it. That's the difference.

So yes, it hurts. Loss inherently hurts. But, God, is it worth it. So, so worth it. If even one person has been any better for all that pain, every moment and loss is more worth it than words can express. Because that is the goal. Does the thought of losing those close to me still terrify me? Yes, no one wants to be left in the dust. But will I continue to live life as if that didn't even faze me? Most certainly.

sincerely, sarah

Soundtrack: "And Then You Love Someone" by Ben Rector

(I have taken to titling my blogs after songs now apparently)

*The Art of Being Alone

2011-10-09T16:01:00.001-05:00

Yesterday was the first day in which I had a true lazy day. I did not change out of my pajamas. I did not leave the building. In fact, I only left my dorm room once (for a round of hallway bowling and to go get a soda from the vending machine). It was marvelous. What did I do all day? Nothing. I slept in extremely late. I ate various food from our dorm room. I watched some Merlin. I read a play (The Diary of Anne Frank) and a book (Good Omens). I played on the internet. I listened to music. I played my guitar. I made my schedule for next semester. It was so, so nice. No homework. No real productivity. Minimal socializing.
Besides my thirty minutes of adventuring outside of my room and a few conversations with my roommate, yesterday I was on my own. I am a firm believer in the fact that everyone needs "me time". However, when I did venture out of my room, I was surprised at how many people were shocked that I had spent all day alone. Here I am bragging about my lazy day and all of these people were saying how depressing it was that I had spent all day alone. What is so wrong with being alone? Why does being alone suddenly mean lonely to people?
"I get depressed if I spend all day alone in my dorm," said one person upon hearing of my day. But why? There is such a vast difference between being alone and being lonely. If you cannot have one without the other, then you are doing something wrong. Spending my day alone does not mean I am spending my day lonely. I am able to be by myself and recognize the fact that at that very moment, even while I am alone and they are not there, I am surrounded by people in my life who love me so much more than I deserve. I don't have to be in constant contact with them to be reminded of that.
Wow. Please just let me take a moment to reflect on that statement and my own ability to write it-- more than that, to believe it. It is true, but it has taken me a very, very long time to get to the point where I could believe that. There are people in my life that value me. Though I may not be able to explain why to you, I realize that it's true. So maybe it's all a matter of insecurity. Maybe these people in my life lack the ability to be alone because they lack that security and confidence in themselves.
With facebook/twitter/texting/skype/phone calls/etc, my generation is constantly in contact with someone. I think we are starting to lose the concept of being alone. I think the concept is especially hard on college kids because we are constantly surrounded by other people. There is an art to being alone, to learning to savor your thoughts, to relishing in the silence, to enjoying your own company. Learn to love yourself, and you will never be bored or lonely, because wherever you go, there you are.

sincerely, sarah

soundtrack: Trent Dabbs & Amy Stroup

*Emotional Release

2011-10-05T01:10:00.000-05:00

For anyone who doesn't know, this is a scene from the second act of Spring Awakening (one of my all time favorite musicals). I have this musical to thank for a massive wave of inspiration that washed over me this week. I have seen this musical several times via a bootleg version on youtube, but this past weekend was my first time seeing it live and the performance was phenomenal. So, watch the above video and then carry on reading.
Okay, have you watched it? Good, let's continue. This song is probably the most iconic of the show. Why? I'm sure partially because of it's rather...bold language, but there is an even greater reason. This song is a complete and total emotional release. Toward the end of the song, the choreography for the actors turns into jumping and flailing as they sing "Blah blah blah blah" over and over. This number brings audiences to their feet. Why? Because the audience is right there along with the characters. The audience is feeling this freedom, this pure truth, through the characters and they want it--they long for it.
A complete and utter release is a liberty rarely granted to anyone. To be totally free from any form of social construct to just feel and be, even if just for a moment, is such a beautiful thing. It is the most powerful feeling you can possibly experience, no matter what form it comes in. The ability to laugh uproariously until your sides ache and your face is red. The ability to jump and dance and flail with no one watching. The ability to sob and weep openly, giving yourself entirely over to the sadness. The ability to just scream and pound your fists, releasing pure anger. The ability to release. To totally let go.
Why do we do anything? I do not mean on a religious of philosophical level; let's keep this basic, but slightly more advanced than basic human needs. As humans, what is a primary motivation for every action? To feel. To feel something. Why do we watch TV or movies? To feel entertained or affected. Why do we do good deeds? To feel as though we are making a difference. Why do we share secrets? To feel loved and included. Why do we read? Why do we listen to music? Why do we learn? Why do we kiss? Why do we touch? To feel something, anything at all. All of these actions are inspired by a desire to feel.
There is one huge category of actions that does not fall under that same umbrella though: creation. Why do we create? Sure, it does make us feel something, but we do not create to feel. We create because we feel. Why does the painter paint? Why does the dancer dance? Why does the actor act? Why does the writer write? I could go on and on. The creator creates because he feels and he wants others to share that experience with others. Love. Hate. Confusion. Sadness. Pain. Lust. Anger. Numbness. Joy. Loneliness. Understanding. Fear. Regret. Passion. Courage. Curiosity. Peace. Emotion. Experiences like that can hardly be kept to oneself.
That said, my challenge for you, reader, is to find one single release this week. I know it is not an easy task, but I swear it is worth it. Even if you just go sit in your car and scream to the heavens after you receive the slightest piece of bad news. GO FOR IT. The feeling is there, waiting for you to let it out. Just try it. Release it. And tell me how it goes.

sincerely, sarah

soundtrack: Spring Awakening

*Words Can Alter Perceptions

2011-10-03T23:47:00.001-05:00

*preface: This post has been churning in my mind, it just took a nice conversation with my favorite New Yorker to find the words*

Words have a lot of power, and sometimes there are people that have a certain knack for putting them in the right order. There are people that have a natural ability to phrase well and make what they say sound pretty. Sometimes, this is hard for me to find, but often, I find myself so, so blessed with this ability. Sometimes though, it scares me a little bit.
There are a lot of reasons I am very careful about who finds my blog and who I tell about it. A huge reason that I don't let just anyone see it is because I am afraid of what they will think. Not that I am hiding who I am, per se, but there are things that I discuss here that one does not discuss in civilized society among open company. The obvious reasons aren't really what I am writing about here though. There are reasons that I only let people who really know me see this that have nothing to do with fear of harsh judgment.
See, I have the ability to make things sound nice. I can string words together in such a way that they roll off the page and into someone's ears as smoothly as music. I don't mean to sound vain. I realize that I am not the best writer in the world. I am aware of the fact that not everything I write is good or meaningful. But sometimes things come out well. I have been given the beautiful gift of powerful words. I am blessed and there is not a day that goes by that I am not thankful for this, don't get me wrong. But by the same token, it has had negative consequences. Only once, but that was enough to correct the mistake. Once upon a time (last year) a guy that I didn't know very well found this blog and fell for my words, the beautiful words that weren't actually all of me. He fell for the words and he mistook that as falling for the person behind them. I don't want to manipulate anyone into that.
Another key part of this is that I firmly believe that anyone can fall for anyone if they are given the chance to see another's vulnerabilities. It is easy to mistake the knowledge of another's weaknesses and past for emotional intimacy. When you know things like this about people, you instinctively feel closer to them. I don't want to force people to feel close to me. And you know how this goes, blog. I get vulnerable here. Really vulnerable. I don't want to hide it. I have no shame in it, but I don't want anyone to slip down that slope.

I feel silly writing this, as though I have people falling at my feet. I don't for anyone worried about these things. I feel a bit like Jamie Sullivan in A Walk to Remember: "You have to promise you won't fall in love with me." But really. I don't want to trick someone into feeling something because I can sugar-coat my words and because my vulnerabilities are out on the line. Inside all of that, there is still a crazy, messed up world that refuses to be overlooked.

sincerely, sarah

soundtrack: Spring Awakening (Original Broadway Cast Soundtrack)

*Time Stops

2011-09-28T01:00:00.000-05:00

It's funny how things change. Funny and sad. If you can't tell, then I should warn you now that this post is going to be brimming with nostalgia. As honest as I always am here, I think for just this once, I shall intentionally avoid specifics. It seems to be for the best.
Have you ever noticed how it seems to be the silliest things that trigger nostalgia? Like a Fergie song, for instance. Something as simple as an old song can send you spiraling in memories. A song came on the radio and now all I can think about is an old, close friendship that I let slip away for the dumbest reasons. The hardest part of missing people is when you cannot really justify it, when they are still in your life but the circumstances have changed. It was my fault. I'm certain of that. He was always willing to overlook my flaws, and out of stupidity, I couldn't do the same.
Nostalgia.
Nostalgia and the present.
Another thing that is hard for me to wrap my mind around is how things are now. It somehow still hasn't hit me that I now have friends around the country, that when I go back to Coppell, they aren't all somewhere there. My friends are off seeing the world. From Oregon to Manhattan to Los Angeles to Austin, they are off finding their place. By this point, most of them probably already have. It's weird to think that all of these people who were all a part of the same world now each have their own universe. It's silly and obvious and completely natural, but it still baffles me. Especially thinking of all of the IB kids, all 45 of us. We really did travel in one world. Sometimes I still expect to find them in my various classes. Of course, that doesn't happen. (Stating the obvious, as always.)

To be honest, right now being honest is a bit terrifying. There is so much going on in my mind right now that I am bottling up, so much that no one knows. I'm afraid of blogging-- I'm afraid of being honest, because I'm afraid of what might come out if I do. I could write a thousand more words here, but I think for now, it's best to hold onto those inside.

sincerely, sarah

soundtrack: "Time Stops" ~Explosions in the Sky

*New Beginnings

2011-09-11T22:09:00.000-05:00

First of all, I am neglecting to write about 9/11, not because I don't think it deserves my attention, but because it would take up far too much of my attention. My mom worked in New York for six weeks after 9/11 as a trauma therapist. I was there two weeks after it happened. I saw ground zero before it was cleared. I've heard horror stories that were told directly to my mom-- people who watched their best friend jump, people who lost their spouse. I don't want to write about it, because I can't do any of that justice.

So instead, I will write about what is on my mind tonight. Many people talk about college or moving as a new beginning. I always shrugged this off. I didn't want to be a new person. I was/am happy with who I am. If I'm not changing, it's not a new beginning, right? Not really. I did not realize until tonight that I was just as much a part of the newness as everyone else. I've been hanging out with all of these people for several weeks now, and I have started to really consider a few of them as friends. However, tonight I realized how little they know about me, and how little I know of them in return. Don't get me wrong; it's not that I'm being fake or hiding things, it's just the knowledge and depth of friendship that comes from time and shared experiences.
Because I tell you everything, blog, and because no one here knows you, we can discuss this. If you do know me and you read this and find out something new, welcome to my life. People here don't know that I was bullied to the point of having to transfer schools in middle school. People here don't know that I've spent a lot of time in therapy or that I'm on antidepressants. People here don't know where my current habits come from (i.e. saying negative things, even when I'm feeling optimistic just out of years of habit). Most people here don't know that I just chose to become Catholic two years ago. People here think it's weird that my greatest friend and I met when I was in 7th grade and she was a junior in high school; they don't know that she helped keep me alive. People here don't really know how important my faith is to me, but much of that is my fault for not properly expressing it. People here don't know how much acting means to me. They don't know my family's financial situation or that my daddy is on dialysis. They don't know that I was bullied in high school or that there came a point when I stopped caring and found myself. They don't know about my intense wanderlust. They don't know about my Jonas Brothers phase or my scene-kid phase (FTSK, We the Kings, skinny jeans, band shirts...I did it all). They don't know about my different relationships with people from home. There is so much about me that people don't know, and I like that. These things are mine to hold. My history is behind like and key, at my own discretion to share or hold back. It's almost funny: people think they more me well because I talk so much. I've noticed recently that I talk so much, but I don't really say much at all. (see post about why I don't want people to read this blog, and the Aqualung lyrics there). I guess by letting my mouth run, I'm able to prevent myself from thinking too much or bringing up topics that are far too serious. If that makes sense...or if it doesn't.

At any rate, the certain anonymity is so perfect. I'm a lot happier this way. It gives me something that is all mine.

sincerely, sarah

soundtrack: Charlene Kaye and Young the Giant

*To Avoid Criticism.

2011-09-07T12:07:00.001-05:00

"To avoid criticism: Say nothing, do nothing, be nothing."

I received a fortune cookie that said this over the summer, but it didn't really resonate with me until recently. I've written a lot on not trying to please people, but while you're not trying to please others, what do you do? Be yourself. But what does that mean? On the show Criminal Minds, Doctor Spencer Reid is the young, certified genius of the team. In one episode another team member advises him, "Be yourself, kid." Reid replies in confusion, "I don't know how to be anyone else." Wouldn't it be beautiful if this was everyone's response? Unfortunately it's not.

Have you ever been in a situation when a group of people is talking about something (for this example, we'll say a book) and someone comes up and clearly wants to be included? This person starts piping up. They claim to love this book. They agree with the opinions of everyone else in the group, all the while making it very clear that they have absolutely no clue what they are talking about. It's an uncomfortable situation to be in. Emma Watson was once asked if she had any advice for people her age and her advice was this: "Don't feel stupid if you don't like what everyone else pretends to love." This is valid in so many areas of life. Be it fashion trends, pop culture, sports, video games, etc, we are people prone to cluster in order to avoid isolation. A group of people start talking about football and you don't want to be left out, so you act as though you love football, when in reality you'd rather eat dirt than watch a game. I think we've all been known to commit some variation of this at some point in time, but what's the point? There is a person that I know who does this consistently. Never has he started a single conversation; instead, he agrees with anything and everything anyone says, trying to make comments off of theirs that sounds "educated," but instead simply proving himself ill-informed. A youtuber named Kingsley warns people against this precise behavior: "Just be yourself, be honest, be real, and be fearless, because you never know who will appreciate that." This is the best advice I could possibly share with anyone. There is absolutely no point in agreeing with anything and putting up some front of interests and passions and experiences. Frankly, it is boring. How much more interesting to hear a dozen unique opinions than one opinion echoed!

People hide so much-- their flaws, their insecurities, their interests, their goals, their dreams, their personality. Why is it that humans have such an issue with allowing others to see that they too are human? We are unique and that is how it is meant to be. Picture the world, full of people who share all of the same interests and beliefs. Each and every one of them wears the same style of clothes, they watch the same shows, they eat the same types of food--eventually they all become the same person. We all have different quirks and stories and we need to learn to embrace that. At a ceremony for The Trevor Project, Daniel Radcliffe advised listeners to "Go boldly and honestly through the world. Learn to love the fact that there is no one else quite like you." And this is exactly what we must do. We have to embrace ourselves and learn to be brave with our lives so that other people can be brave with theirs. In accepting our uniqueness, we give others permission to do the same. In admitting to someone that you watch an "embarrassing" TV show, you tell them that that is okay. In wearing what you want even though it's not trendy, you show others that they are allowed to go against the grain. In admitting that you don't have any idea how football works, you allow others to admit ignorance in other areas. Do you see where I'm going with this? Let me give you a personal example. I am one of the only people I know who has absolutely no knowledge of video games. Many of the friends I have made in my dorm could probably eat, sleep, and breathe video games. This left me with two options: pretend to love video games or admit that I had no knowledge/experience/interest and risk them laughing at me or thinking I was stupid or preferring to hang out with someone else. I have no interest in video games and I didn't want to have to spend my free time playing them, no matter what my friends thought. Sure they tease me a little bit every now and then, but always in good humor. There is absolutely nothing wrong with having different interests in opinion. It's what makes you unique. It's what makes you interesting. It's what makes you YOU! And who you are is so so important.

sincerely, sarah

sountrack: Ben Rector

off to: Lunch and then class

*Where the Wild Things Are

2011-09-03T14:21:00.000-05:00

Recently, several people I know expressed interest in this film, and because I feel like one should know what they are getting into before watching this movie, I'm going to show you a snippet from something my friend (about to graduate from loyola marymount with a degree in film production) and I wrote together after the movie came out.

"Loved this movie. However, someone asked me what it was about and I found myself realizing how complex this story is. If at first I had to put it in only a couple words I'd say love and forgiveness. But there is a deep complexity to that.
Hidden within everyone is an instinct for anger and rage. It bursts out every now again and it is something very real to life. I remember feeling that way as a child, ready to explode. Whether it was sibling rivalry or being at odds with mom or impatience, you could feel it bubbling to the surface and all you wanted to do was scream, let it out, make someone listen. As you learn and grow older, gaining a certain level self-awareness, you can begin to step back from the situation, but that feeling is still there, ready to fly out. When it does, and being human it will, you have to be ready to forgive because love is the greatest part of humanity. How do we show that even when we're scared or angry or hurt... when we're lost, or lonely or confused we still love each other? To accept that feeling, let go and forgive. It's that kind of love that connects us. Life is a wild thing. So for me, Where the Wild Things Are is about what it means to be human.
It's been a long time since I've seen a movie so relatable, with such a REAL main character. I know what it feels like to be a part of something that is fun at first, that makes you feel important, but for things to quickly get out of hand and go too far. I know what it feels to be too young to comprehend the way you're feeling, to feel so many combinations of hurt and anger that you just can't hold it in. I never really understood the tag line before, but now I completely agree that inside all of us is a wild thing."

This movie is made, very obviously with the intention of being an "indie film". It is very clearly a Spike Jonze film. (If you've ever seen Scenes from the Suburbs, or even Being John Malkovich, you will know what I mean.) Along with this comes the fact that there are many moments and even complete scenes where a lot of people found themselves stuck on the fact that they didn't really know what was going on or what the point of that scene was. Also, it is a soundtrack heavy in Arcade Fire, and certainly it's film to match that. It is not, in the slightest bit, a children's movie. Though there are only a few "profanities", the film as a whole deals entirely with themes that would mean very little to a child's level of understanding.
This movie is about what it means to be human, but more than that, (though a child wouldn't understand it) it is about what it is to be a child. It's about the feelings you don't understand and how you deal with them. The "wild thing" inside all of us is each and every urge or impulse that we repress. It's the thoughts we don't know how to process and the emotions we don't know how to handle. This movie steps outside the bounds of the children's story that I knew and loved, and creates an entire commentary on the human experience.

So all of that said, be prepared. It won't be what you would expect from the book. Be open minded. And enjoy.

sincerely, sarah

*A Lesson in Meeting People

2011-09-01T15:22:00.003-05:00

In making myself available to listen and talk to people over the past couple of days, one question has proved very recurring. This particular question was actually very surprising to me, but it is one that I struggled with myself for a long time. The question is this: "How do you make friends?" The answer is now very clear to me, but three or four years ago, I would have been the one asking the question. The advice I give now stems from the advice I stumbled upon that changed my life. Author Augusten Burroughs is quoted as having said:

"I used to feel so alone in the city. All those gazillions of people and then me, on the outside. Because how do you meet a new person? I was very stunned by this for many years. And then i realized, you just say, "Hi." They may ignore you. Or you may marry them. And that possibility is worth that one word."

So simple. So obvious. And yet, I had never been able to think of this on my own. Still there are people who find themselves rendered speechless in the face of another person, especially in the face of a stranger. Many people (for a long time, I was included amidst this number) would never consider saying hello to an unknown person. There are so many fears and so-called "social restrictions" that inhibit us from meeting new people. The slightest contact with another person sets us up in a position of vulnerability. In making contact with another human being, we set ourselves up for the possibility of rejection, for the possibility of insult, for the possibility of friendship, for the possibility of love. But isn't that life? Even inside of the closest friendships, we are daily setting ourselves up for the possibility of betrayal and for the possibility of love. After all, is it not the ones we are closest to who hold the power to hurt us the most?
Aside from that though, why do we so fear the rejection of others? Why do we put so much stock in another person's opinion? In the opinion of a stranger? This reflects, more than anything, our views of ourselves. Like all other habits and ways of interacting, the inhibiting fear of rejection tells more us than about the other people involved in the interaction. Take, for instance, mumbling. The mumbler tells their listener that they do not have anything important to say. The person unwilling to look across the cafeteria table and say hello tells their neighbor that they don't have anything to offer as a person. It is a telling sign of a great lack of confidence. When you look in the eyes of another person and feel intimidated, you are putting more stock in them than in yourself, and that is such an unfair thing to do. In that moment, you rob yourself of so much.

"What a treacherous thing, to believe that a person is more than a person (John Green)."

When we put people on a pedestal, we rob ourselves and we rob them. Picture two people sitting at a table in a university cafeteria. Both are on breaks between class and stopped in to grab lunch. Neither knows anyone around. There are two ways this can go, and we are going to look at them both. For both scenarios, we will say that one girl was already seated at the table when the second sits down.

For the first scenario, let's say that the first girl sits down and glances over at the table's previous occupant. She immediately looks over the other girl and deems her "out of her league." She tells herself that this girl is clearly prettier and more fashionable than her, probably more intelligent too. She has no business talking to her, because it is obvious that the other girl wouldn't be interested.
For the second scenario, let's say that girl-one looks over at girl-two and smiles. She introduces herself and asks the name of the other girl. They end up talking while they eat and girl-one finds out that girl-two has had a terrible week and really needed someone to talk to. They may or may not become the best of friends from this point, but for both of them, it was a nice lunch and a much needed conversation.

The difference here is pretty obvious, and I realize that things will not always be as picture-perfect as they end up in scenario two, but what do you have to lose? Over the past week, I have sat by many new people at many points throughout the day. Some interactions have been friendly, some have been merely polite, some have even been downright awkward. I didn't lose anything from these conversations though. Did it make me any less of a person that a few people weren't interested in talking with me? Not at all. Don't get me wrong here. I'm not telling you to irritate everyone you meet. If someone isn't interested in conversation, it will be easy to tell. Let it go. Maybe they are in a hurry. Maybe they are dealing with things. You will probably never know, but odds are good that it does not have anything to do with you. By the same token, you have to accept that not everyone is going to want to be your best friend. There are billions of people in this world and not all of them are destined to be friends. There are people whom you will encounter that will find absolutely nothing in common with you, and that is perfectly fine. Who you are isn't dictated by every single person's view of you. Be you. Share that with other people. Let that take you where it will.

sincerely, sarah

BEDA: oh that's right, I don't think of good things to write about until the day after BEDA
Soundtrack: Andrew Belle

Thoughts from Places

2011-08-31T23:06:00.000-05:00

Thoughts from Places:

Kerr Cafeteria.

The food is not grand, but the experience is almost always worth it. I meet some of the coolest people over rushed meals between classes or events. I don't generally abide by regrets, but there are a few people I regret not getting in contact with. This has been the biggest issue in the first few weeks of school. I've met tons and tons of people, but getting in touch with most of them outside of happenstance has been rare. As I meet new people and get involved with different things, it is getting a little easier. I'm starting to have "mutual friends" on Facebook and people that I see on a regular basis, but there are still times where it is hard. Over dinner tonight, Rach and I had about 45 minutes worth of quality conversation with a guy who is here on exchange. He seemed like a really cool person, but as I know nothing but his first name and this is a school of 36,000 students, I will probably never see him again. C'est la vie.

Wooten Hall.

Tonight I found it again. Passion. Tonight was the first meeting of the year for Invisible Children club. We watched a few videos and chatted some and I remembered why I got involved in all of this in the first place-- why I wear the clothes, own the movies, wear the bracelet everyday. I sat there in that meeting, half-focusing and half thinking about how I could possibly use my life to make a difference. I want it so bad. I want to help people. I want my whole life to be about helping people. I just can't really figure out the right way to do it. I don't know how to be a desk job sort of person and that's what a lot of people who make a career out of non-profit work do. I talk about this so often, but all I do is talk. How can I make a difference? What can I do? I wish you could hear my thoughts right now. My mind is SCREAMING this as I type. I want to do more than just watch. I want to do more than just idealize. I want to change the world. I want to make this world better for ever just one person.

Murchison Performing Arts Center.

I got a job. I am going to be an usher at the Murchison this year. I haven't decided how I feel about this yet.I train on September 10th.

RTFP.

Auditions galore. On Friday I am auditioning to be a news anchor for ntTV. On Saturday, I may be auditioning for this show that Sundown Collaborative Theatre is putting on. It sounds like it is going to be a really cool production about the artist and the creative process. Probably not that second audition though. As much as I need the audition experience and as eager as I am to get going and get involved, I realize that this is my first semester, I am taking 16 hours, and I have a TON of homework all the time. Plus I am about to have a job. Plus improv. Plus clubs. I just need to get settled and THEN go crazy.

Art Building

Talk to Me. In government today, I got an email from the Trevor Project about their new campaign for suicide prevention week called Talk to Me. Honestly, I am ashamed I couldn't have just thought of this on my own. If you happen to be reading this and need someone to talk to, talk to me. If you know someone who is struggling with bullies, depression, or suicidal thoughts, talk to them, or even direct them here. I would love to talk to them.

So, non-existent reader, this has been another installment of BEDA. Enjoy life. I will be back...sometime.

sincerely, sarah

BEDA: Day 31

Soundtrack: "Portugal. The Man" (who I just learned about today from a kid in my theatre class!)

Things I Do Instead of Doing My Homework

2011-08-30T21:08:00.000-05:00

Like writing this blogpost! Today has been remarkably less exciting. Class. Pottermore. Homework. Procrastination. Lunch. More class. More procrastination. Dinner. Theatre meeting. More homework. Mandatory hall meeting. Now this. So instead of describing my day in detail, I've decided to give you a list of things I do when I should be doing homework.

Blogposts for BEDA
Earn house points for my 'Puffs on Pottermore
Scroll endlessly through Tumblr
Organize my "likes" on Facebook
Skype Rachael or Tasha
Eat Cheese Whales
Think about how much homework I have
Eat more Cheese Whales
Talk to people about canceled TV shows on Facebook
Watch Party Down (or other netflix things)
Do other homework that is due later but annoys me less
Check my email
Think about how badly I need a job
Scroll through Twitter
Stumble upon absurd youtube videos
Read my Time Magazine about Einstein
Talk to my roommate
Work on my growing notebook of stand-up material
Think about all the stuff I have to do
Stare at Blackboard
Whine about my history/government classes
Warn other people not to take history and government at the same time
Wish that all of my homework was for theatre or Italian
Look through old Facebook pictures of me
Listen to music and stare into space.

As you can tell, I am productive.

sincerely, sarah

BEDA: Day 30 (I promise tomorrow will be a good last BEDA)

Soundtrack: Jordan Klassen

Pottermore and Improv

2011-08-30T16:29:00.000-05:00

Clearly I didn't post a blog last night. "Why?" the non-existent reader asks. Because I didn't get back to my dorm until almost 01:00 with Italian homework still to do and a 09:30 class. For once, I let homework and sleep take priority. Well, sorta. They obviously didn't take priority over being out til one. My day yesterday was an exciting one, so I will just tell you about that.
I had a 09:00 class to get to so I had set my alarm for 07:30 to give me time to shower and eat ...not so much. I've been sick for the past week or so, so I had taken a tylenol PM the night before. I woke up at 08:45, realized what time it was, brushed my teeth, threw on deodorant and clothes, grabbed a granola bar, and bolted across campus. Luckily, as this was day one of the class, we just went over the syllabus. This meant that the typical three hour class only lasted about forty-five minutes. I came back to my room and got myself together, then intended to spend my morning catching up on history and government homework...not so much again. I turned on my computer and had just gotten to my government class's blackboard when my phone alerted me that I had a new email. I popped over to my gmail and found my Pottermore email awaiting me. There went homework time. I spent about two hours on Pottermore. I got my wand (12.25", willow wood, unicorn core) and got sorted (Hufflepuff). I'm still processing how I feel about where I was sorted. It is certainly not what I expected at all.
After Pottermore-ing, I went to lunch and then to my three afternoon classes. After drowning in the copious amounts of assigned readings and papers, I met up with Rachael and we went to dinner. As we were heading back, I was wishing that I knew what time improv was. Luckily for us, we ran into Daniel and Ryan (from whom I had first heard about the whole on-campus improv ordeal). We headed over to Wooten with them. I met some really awesome people at improv. I flopped a LOT during warm ups, but the jam session went alright. Not great, mind you. But alright, considering this was my first time actually participating in improv in awhile. After improv, I went with a few people to Kerr for a sort of fourth-meal, and then back to my dorm for Italian and sleeping.
Outside of actual improv and more on the subject of actually meeting people, I have started noticing a really annoying tendency I have. Sometimes when I meet people, I catch myself instantly trying to impress them. It's not that I lie or pretend to like things I don't, but I just suddenly start flaunting things about me that I think the people in question may find interesting. It's not even a conscious thing. Consciously, I just want to be myself, whether or not they like whoever that is. If I had to evaluate myself, I would assume that that comes from the middle school days of being bullied and trying really hard to be liked enough to be left alone. It's not something that suits me well and I would really like to drop the habit. I just need to start catching myself in the act of it and shutting it down. Trying to be impressive is not really becoming of anyone, but particularly of me.

sincerely, sarah

BEDA: Day 29
Soundtrack: Of Montreal, The Shins

Poop Stories

2011-08-28T03:41:00.001-05:00

Something about a good day, John Mayer and butterfly cookies will make a girl fall in love with words. I should let you know it is 03:30 here. The last blog I posted was actually written at about 17:00 in the honors' lobby. I'm very glad that it was a quality post as it was my 200th. I need to be sleeping, but I just want to document the day. I don't think words can do my current sentiment justice, but I will do my best.
I didn't actually get out of bed today until almost noon. I then wasted time until 01:00, when I watched an EPIC episode of Doctor Who and skyped with Tasha. After Doctor Who, I figured that would be the biggest part of my day, but I ate lunch, showered, dressed, and headed to the lobby. I took Secret Lives of People in Love with me. I ended up reading that in its entirety while someone played piano and someone else played video games. I headed upstairs again and got Rabbit Hole, and then returned to read all of that too. Then I wrote that last blog post to the tune of Debussy being played by a music major.
About 18:30, Emily and Nicole picked me up and we headed to Chick-fil-A for dinner. This is where my day took a turn. We chatted at dinner and after dinner we went to Bruce (Em's dorm) to play board games in the lobby. We played a short game of clue and then some game called "Worst Case Scenario Survival Game". That game was exactly what you'd expect of it, and to be fair, we all would be dead. Then we ended up playing Quelf. If you have never played Quelf, I don't think I can do it any sort of justice here. It is not your ordinary board game. There were songs sung, adventures had, seeking that took place, and oodles of silliness. Altogether, it was tons of fun. Around ten, Nicole drove me back to my dorm. After a bit of watching people play pool, a huge group moved to the lobby to play video games. These, I actually enjoyed watching. One was a game show and the other was just so cute. After awhile, a few people trickled off and everyone left just ended up chatting. My roommate came down around 01:00 and we ended up in the lobby until around 03:00 sharing embarrassing moments and poop stories. I don't remember the last time I laughed so hard, and I know these new friends on a whole new level now. Good times.
Tomorrow I really need to get on the homework. Also, my parents are coming and bringing me a TV, a printer, and a dust-buster. Good stuff. This dorm is about to get high-tech. But for now, adieu.

sincerely, sarah

BEDA: Day 28
Soundtrack: John Mayer

*A Lesson in Love

2011-08-28T03:14:00.001-05:00

Sometimes I just want to write a love letter to the whole world, because I don't think people hear it enough. "I love you." How can one phrase be so overused and yet so under-spoken at the same time? The paradox leaves me utterly conflicted
Let me clarify, I don't think love is expressed often enough. As I see it, there are two separate forms of love. The clarification is hard to make using only words, but essentially, it is this: "love" as a word and "love" as a sentiment. The word "love" is often thrown around and trampled on. "I love you, baby," says the jerk to the girl he wants to sleep with. "I love my clothes!" says the girl to express her favor towards fashion. Love, the word, is taken so lightly.
Love, the sentiment, is impossible to take lightly. "Love is a many splendored thing! Love lifts us up where we belong! All you need is love!" And yet so many of us that possess it keep it to ourselves. Love is this beautiful concept-- so often felt, so often known, and yet rarely shared. Going forth, I would like to clarify that I am leaving romantic relationships out of this. That whole topic is complicated and controversial, and frankly, not what I am talking about here. I want to address love as a whole, not the specific branch of love that is shared between to people "in love".
I started off writing more broadly, but I don't think that is a safe bet to make. Maybe this is all just me and the dreamer that carries me forward. I can say with certainty (and have said before) that I fall in love just a little bit with each person I meet-- not in the traditional sense of the term, but in the connection of two people and mutual understanding for which there exists no term. Do you know what I mean? The moment of eye contact and the brief smile that passes. The lighting of eyes, the flicker of excitement, when a mutual interest is discovered. I learn so much from the people that I encounter and I feel for them a great sentiment that can only be labeled love.
I cannot be the only person that feels this. Yet so many people do not know the depths to which they are loved. To me, this is a travesty. In telling someone how much you value them, you risk feeling silly. You also risk saving their life. So which possibility weighs enough to tilt the scale? There are people who don't know that they are beautiful. There are people who have never been told that it is okay to be themselves. You have to be brave with your life so that others can be brave with theirs. Let love show. Let it grow and let it guide you.

What's the worst that could happen?

sincerely, sarah

BEDA: Day 27
Soundtrack: guy playing piano in the lobby of my dorm

Party Down

2011-08-27T02:06:00.000-05:00

Another fitting title. Fitting in two ways: One, I have spent this evening watching Party Down, and two, the party is winding down. (Okay, I realize that two is a stretch; I just needed to somehow tie it in to my life.) The party really is winding down though. The past few days have been so much fun, but today real life hit. I went to both my regular government and my honors history classes and both of them will prove to be INSANELY labor intensive. Loads of reading and loads of papers and assignments to compliment the reading. I am certainly going to have my work cut out for me. I have already done my reading for Theatre Voice next Tuesday and tomorrow I am going to get on my Italian reading and start plugging through my history reading assignments. Hopefully I can get myself ahead before I have too much going on. I am going to get involved with some on-campus improv starting Monday. I have a job interview next Tuesday, followed immediately by a theatre meeting. Things are really going to pick up from here on out and I need to get myself prepared.
Any advice out there?

sincerely, sarah

BEDA: Day 26
Soundtrack: The Wombats- A Guide to Love, Loss and Desperation

*Spring Awakening

2011-08-26T01:48:00.001-05:00

Another slightly off title for a blog. It is not Spring, and I most certainly am not try to compare my life to abused, hormonal teenagers. I am, however, watching Spring Awakening in the other window though. This musical really is very quality (though this recording is not so much, but thank you, youtube). Once again, I missed the actual deadline for the day. I'm sure it will be well after 01:00 by the time I finish this blog (further proven by the fact that I just took a 15 minute break to watch more of Spring Awakening). Fortunately, I don't have class until 13:00 tomorrow. At any rate, away from this lame introductory paragraph and onto life:
Today was my first day of classes. I am fortunate enough to have only two classes on Tues/Thurs, both of which are enjoyable; thus, today was a wonderful day. I have theatre voice from 09:30-11:50. There are only 21 kids in this class and our professor seems awesome. I really think I am going to enjoy this one. It is also conveniently located for me to get breakfast on the way to class, then pop back to Kerr for lunch before Italian. My Italian class also seems like it has a lot of potential. My professor is young and sweet, and she really knows her stuff. I am already excited to take on this language.
Tomorrow will be unfortunately less exciting. As previously stated, I don't have a class until 13:00, but between 13:00 and 16:00, I have Italian Lab, Honors History, and Government, with only a ten minute break between each. This may prove to be a bigger challenge than climbing the Aggro Crag. Good thing I am in peek physical condition (insert laugh here). (At this point in the blog, I have now finished Spring Awakening and it has passed 01:00.)
After classes today, I ended up grabbing a soda with a girl I had known in high school who graduated in the class ahead of mine. We ended up in the same Italian class, so that will be a fun adventure this semester. Catching up was great and I look forward to more quality time with her this semester. (Currently, my foot is asleep and, in trying to wake it up, I am shaking my leg so hard that my chair is slowly turning.) After separating from Allison, I met up with Rachael, who went with me to buy my Italian textbook, once again doubling my cost of books. From there we came back to my dorm and watched the finale of a show we watched this summer, chilled in my room, chilled in the lobby, and then headed out again. This time we split; Rachael headed back to her dorm and I headed to the Catholic center for Mass and dinner/ ice cream social. I got to see some lovely friends and meet some really stellar people. On my way back into Honors, I ended up playing a game of traveling pictionary. I'd played it before, though never heard it called that, but it was fun, nonetheless.
Is anyone else familiar with the insecurity of wondering whether or not people like you? What a silly question. To be fair, that is probably the most common insecurity in our society; in fact, so many insecurities stem from that very question: Am I liked? To me it is almost a silly thing to wonder. I don't really care much for pleasing people, but at the same time, what people like does tend to shape who we are. While I don't particularly let other people's opinions affect what I am interested in, it would be ignorant to say that the opinions and expectations of others do not affect who I am. The truth is, I don't know who I would be without the shaping of other people. One of my favorite monologues to perform speaks on this. It's called "Wisdom" (by Amy Fox), and it talks about how we change from birth til now; about how we're born knowing what it's like to curl up close to someone and then have to learn how to be alone; about how we're born knowing that when we scream, someone comes running, but then we are taught to be silent; and we are born hungry, but we have to learn to be satisfied with the proper, delicate amount. But back to the point, which presently is my life: I am presently caught in this battle of wondering whether my newest friends are friends out of true friendship and interest in me as a person, or simply out of politeness.
I suppose only time will tell, but it is a constant question that I find myself pondering, and one for which I cannot seem to find an appropriate alternative. Would it be preferable for people who did not take direct interest in you to be rude? No, not really. Would it be optimal to be treated as a friend, even though those being friendly find you to be irritating? Probably not. These are my thoughts, but only at the present. For now, I am appreciating the friendship I am extended, because I don't know how long any of it will last. People are, for the most part, so SO friendly right now. I am still meeting people at most every meal, passing down hallways, on elevators, chilling in the lobby, etc, and I can probably safely assume that that is not something that lasts all year. So I'll enjoy it without complaint.

sincerely, sarah

BEDA: Day 25
Soundtrack: Spring Awakening, John Mayer

A Chill Night

2011-08-24T21:04:00.000-05:00

After several days of not returning to my room until after 01:00, it has been really lovely just to relax this evening. After theatre advising/ lunch/ convocation/ Mean Green Fling (free food and stuff under the hot sun) and other various and productive adventures with Rach, I got back to Honors around 18:30. I ended up chilling in the lobby for about half an hour, comparing free stuff and listening to some guy sing and play piano. When I finally worked up the energy to haul myself up 20 stairs, I found my roommate and a friend here, so I chatted with them for a bit and caught the last quarter of No Reservations. After awhile, they left to go to a friend's apartment and since then, I have just been relaxing. It's really nice after all this time.
Don't get me wrong, I've loved every minute of every day. Today Rachael and I reconnected with this awesome girl we met at casino night and got to hang out with her for awhile, which was really fun. During convocation, I got to chat with the one actual friend I made during orientation, which was also really nice. I enjoyed getting free stuff. I've enjoyed all the go-go-go, even if some things have been sort of lame. But for now, it's just nice to breathe. I'm going to take a shower, take out my contacts, make a cup of tea, watch a show, and go to bed.
It shall be lovely.

Classes start tomorrow. The adventure begins.

sincerely, sarah

BEDA: Day 24
Soundtrack: Joe Brooks- Reason to Swim EP

Another College Day

2011-08-24T01:42:00.000-05:00

Oh, blog. What to do with you? I haven't been good about texting my friends back, much less writing full posts. The moral of this story is, once again, I did not make it back to my dorm until after 01:00; therefore, I am tired and not really up to blogging. I don't even remember the last time I just *chilled*. Everything has been go-go-go. Rach and I have been very "carpe diem" and "seize the day" and "let's get stuff done" and "time for socializing", etc. I haven't practiced my guitar or read or watched TV or gotten on tumblr or really even just sat. I get up, I get ready, I meet Rach, and we set off. Anytime we come back to the dorm to chill, we end up swept up in some event or another. We did finally finish setting up my dorm and I took pictures, which I may post somewhere in the morning. After I sleep.

Time to wash my face, wash my feet, take out my contacts and sleep.

sincerely, sarah

BEDA: Day 23
Soundtrack: The Paper Kites

Sometimes things don't go as planned

2011-08-23T01:41:00.000-05:00

This day has felt like a million of them. I just had to process the fact that this is still only my first full day here. This morning was full of productivity with Rachael (textbooks/Target/Dollar General/Parking/ID things/mailboxes/etc) After dinner with Rachael, our plans for this evening consisted of coming back to my dorm and finishing up the decoration process. I intended to finish setting up my dorm, chat with Rach, eat one of the two chocolate bars in my room, have some quality tumblr time, and turn in early. My dorm looks less put together than I left it this morning, my candy bars are in the same place, and I am stuffed with cookies and cookie dough.
Coming back to my dorm from dinner, we were rounded up into a group going to CARNIVALPALOOZA, which, to be honest, has a far more excitement in the name than in any actual allure of it. We left with the hopes of making friends or something...okay, really, we had no hopes; we just had nothing better to do. Rach won some Ramen, we got a "caricature" drawn of us, and we had free sodas and popcorn. We chatted with a few people whose names I never got and who I will probably never see again, then we headed back to the dorm again.
Finally in my dorm, we realized that my roommate had moved in, so I chatted with her and her friend for a bit, before going into my bedroom. We were about to start decorating when I remembered how terrible my comforter had smelled last night and how my fuzzy blanket and pillowcase were fuzzing up everything. So instead, we headed down to do two simultaneous loads of laundry. In moving the laundry to the dryer, we ended up chatting with a few people in the lobby who were playing/watching video games. After putting my stuff in, we ended up sitting with them and talking. A while later they invited us to go to Sac 'n' Save (the grocery store within walking distance, that is somehow simultaneously sketchy and pricey). Coming back, I got my bedding out and ended up just throwing it on a chair with my newly purchased cereal and returning to the couches to chat (and drink free water bottles). After awhile, a few people came down and started playing Nertz (a crazy-intense card game). We moved over there and joined in and met more awesome people. We stopped mid-nertz to eat the freshly baked cookies and more cookie dough. We never went back to the game. We all talked for awhile and then a few people ended up gaming again and we all ended up back on the couches.
At any rate, I didn't get back to my dorm until well after 01:00. It is now almost two and I have an unmade bed, a room with crap everywhere and I have yet to even begin getting ready for bed. This was certainly not what I had planned. The beauty of spontaneity. Sometimes I realize how thankful I am that I am not the one in control.

sincerely, sarah

BEDA: Day 22
Soundtrack: my own furious typing as I rush toward sleep

First Night in my Dorm

2011-08-22T00:52:00.000-05:00

I need to preface this by making two statements: First, that I do not feel like blogging right now, but I will because I bound myself to this with BEDA. Second, that this still hasn't hit me yet. I don't feel like I am in college. I don't feel like I have moved. I don't feel like I don't still live with my mommy and daddy. I don't feel like I'm not about to return to Coppell High. (here, my picture frame fell off the wall and about scared me to death.)
My dorm is silent. Really silent. Granted, half my dorm still hasn't moved in, but I hope it isn't like this all year. There are never people in the halls or the lounge. Everyone comes and goes and greets no one in between. It's been very tempting to me to just walk up to someone's door, knock and just smile when they open and say something along the lines of "I'm Sarah, Let's be friends." I haven't. But I also haven't ruled it out yet. I'm just weirdly lonely and there isn't really a reason for it. I was with Rachael until almost midnight. My roommate hasn't moved in yet, but I would usually be alone this time of night anyways. I think it has something to do with the overwhelming presence of so many people around, but the ultimate separation between me and them. There are so many people here, so many potential friends/classmates/acquaintances, but I can't bring myself to break the barrier of unfamiliarity. I'm surrounded by people, and I am lonely. It is cliche, and it is a little bit silly, but it is also a little bit sad. Part of me longs to cling to Rachael, but another part of me realizes that if I do, we both limit ourselves from opportunities to meet new people, make friends, and find our niches. I guess we'll see how it goes.
I also need to work on being more open minded. I don't want to say much about it, but I will say this: as of right now, I am not sure that I will be at UNT all four years. It is far too soon to judge, but it doesn't seem to be the right place. However, it is the place we can afford, so I guess I will see how everything pans out. Story of my life-- waiting to see how things pan out.
With that, I will leave you for tonight. It's almost one AM. When did that happen?

sincerely, sarah

BEDA: Day 21
Soundtrack: Dorm silence.

One Day

2011-08-20T14:28:00.000-05:00

Going into this movie, I had very high expectations. The movie got terrible reviews, but Lone Scherfig is one of my favorite directors, Anne Hathaway is one of my favorite actresses, Jim Sturgess is one of my favorite actors, and I was very excited for new Elvis Costello music. I had not read this book, because my mum had tried to read it and hated it, but that rarely means much in a book-to-movie translation.
In simplest terms, this movie lived up to any expectation I could have had (though it was unfortunately low on Costello music). The soundtrack is fantastic. I am listening to it right now, actually. I should preface this review by saying that I am a weirdly huge fan of sad movies, or as I call them, "cry movies." My favorite movies are Lars and the Real Girl and Moulin Rouge, if that tells you anything. Though, now, I would like to add this to the list.
It makes no sense to judge a movie by the previews that come on before it, but for me, it worked. I wanted to see every single thing that previewed before this. Every single trailer looked amazing. The movie was no disappointment. I actually had no clue that this movie was going to take the sad turn that it did. I don't want to ruin anything though, because I am glad that I had no idea. It is rare that I don't know from the first 20 minutes how a movie will end. Ironically enough, Rachael just texted me that she saw the movie this morning, loved it and "NEVER EXPECTED WHAT HAPPENED!"
Not only did I love the acting and story-line of this film, I loved the cinematography immensely. There were so many breathtaking shots that contributed to the film in ways other people never would have dreamed of. Most movies use the cameras as a means to capture the film, but in Lone's films, they seem not only to capture it, but to contribute to it. I don't really know how to explain it. If you have seen An Education or One Day, you will get it.
The acting in this film was absolutely phenomenal. I was so very impressed with Hathaway and Sturgess, as well as all of the supporting actors. From Hathaway and Sturgess (both of whose work I have followed), I saw new things pulled out of them that come only from the perfect union of script, actor, and director, and it was beautiful. This was certainly no Ella Enchanted or 21 (though both of them have shown themselves to be very versatile actors throughout their many roles). Hathaway even managed to be versatile (physically) in this film, going from very plain to very gorgeous depending on the scene. Also, Hathaway's accent was perfect. She showed no signs of struggle to keep up with the natural tones of Sturgess and the supporting actors.

All in all, I highly recommend this film. And suggest tissues.

sincerely, sarah

BEDA: Day 20
Soundtrack: One Day Soundtrack

*The Pre-College Sleepover

2011-08-20T14:01:00.001-05:00

Last night, I chose talking to Rachael about life over blogging. I don't regret that at all, but I will make up for it today.

Yesterday afternoon (after another long, nannying-filled day) I got coffee with Angela again. We met to plan for New York (which we still did quite a bit of), but ended up spending most of our time, like always, discussing life and our futures. That seems to be all I do these days. I sure hope my friends like listening to me talk, because I've been subjecting them to it on increasingly frequent occasions this summer. However, this summer has also taught me what it is to have valuable friendships. The best friendships aren't necessarily the people with whom you text 24/7; the best friendships can be measured in the value of a conversation. They between people who can go get coffee and talk for hours; people who can sit on a couch, no TV or radio on, just discussing their hopes and fears and dreams; people between whom vulnerabilities need not be hidden.

After coffee, I went to dinner and a movie with my parents. The next blog post I do will be a movie review of One Day.

Rachael just left. She spent the night after we got home last night. As she was leaving we made plans for tomorrow night. We are going to dinner and watching The Glee Project. In my dorm. At college. Weird. I am making college plans. This is weird. By tomorrow night, all of this crap will be in my dorm. By tomorrow night, I will live somewhere else. Tomorrow, everything changes. And that's exciting. And that's scary. I feel like everything in my life right now is some sort of paradox. The paradox of exciting and nerve-wracking, the paradox of freeing and terrifying-- college life, I suppose. Or, at least, the college life of a girl who really has no clue what she wants with her life. c'est la vie.

sincerely, sarah

BEDA: Day 19

Soundtrack: Ben Rector

A Tidbit

2011-08-18T23:22:00.000-05:00

So this won't be very long, just a bit of a blog-nugget. This is so for two reasons, one because it is already well past eleven pm and I have to be up at six, and two because most of the thoughts I would like to share here are being channeled into another form. So here are the few thoughts I can share quickly.

1. I am trying my hand at stand-up. Who knows how it will go. I haven't even been brave enough to try my first open mic night yet. Right now I'm mostly just telling my bits to people I know by working them into conversations (that are long and chatty on my half). But for awhile now I've been carrying notebooks around with me and jotting down ideas and observations in them.

2. Children are a comedic-goldmine. Nannying filled up an entire page of just little one-line memory-joggers. I could do a whole hour just talking about things these kids have said today. CandyLand. Hide-n-seek. Nap time. Just you wait. Ask Garrett or Rachael. Both of whom I forced to listen to my stories at work tonight. Someday this will be on youtube, and you will laugh.

3. Man, I really wanna find an open mic night now.

5. I move into college sunday.

6. I MOVE INTO COLLEGE SUNDAY.

4. Okay, so I worked from 07:30 to 21:30. It is time for my napnap.

Goodnight.

sincerely, sarah

BEDA: Day 18

Soundtrack: The Silence (if that doesn't creep you out, you are missing the reference)

*A Good Man Goes to War

2011-08-17T23:02:00.002-05:00

So this title isn't actually extremely relevant, because I am not a man; I'm a girl. And because this isn't war; it's my life. For anyone who doesn't catch the reference, the title of this is from a Doctor Who episode (bearing the same title). "Demons run when a good man goes to war." I could probably write an entire blog post about this episode alone (and let's be honest, knowing me, I probably will at some point). But for now, in the tradition of BEDA and doing words justice, I will try to write something insightful about my own life.
So if you've read anything I have posted this summer, you have probably tired of hearing me whine about having no idea what I want to do with my life. Well, I have good news for you and I both: I have decided. My mind is set and I can promise you that this goal isn't changing. Here it is. Are you ready?

I have decided to have no regrets.

Truth is, I still have absolutely no clue what I want to do with my life. But, when I decided, when I finally realize what I feel called to do, nothing will hold me back. If it is to follow a dream I may never catch, then I will follow that dream to the edge of the earth and gladly tumble over. If my wanderings lead me to living on a friends couch, working a terrible day job, ten years from now, then I will end up there with no regrets. That sounds a bit silly, I realize. Money is not a huge goal for me, but while I'm being honest, I will say that I would like to at least have enough for a tiny apartment or something along those lines (at least a bed to myself maybe?)
My whole life I have followed the next logical step. I worked hard in elementary to get ahead for middle school. I worked hard in middle school to get ahead in high school. So on for high school to college. It never once occurred to me that life could follow something other than logic. I took IB in high school to get well ahead for college (going in with 40 credits). I have been raised to go from high school to college, college to grad school, grad school to a good paying career so that I could make good money and then one day afford to have a family and give them opportunities. That's what my parents did. That's the only option I knew that existed. But I don't think that's the option for me.
My mom thinks I'll end up being a professor because "the only thing I have ever truly stuck with my whole life is academics," but that has nothing to do with a passion for it and everything to do with the fact that I didn't know there was another option. I did school, I was good at school, because school was what I was supposed to be doing. Had I ever realized that something like writing or acting could take equal priority, I would have run away with that ages ago. Don't get me wrong. I love learning. I love to read. Maybe I could be a professor. I don't know. I have no idea.
All I know is that I want to follow my dreams, whatever they may be. I want to travel and see the world. I want to join the Peace Corps and spend a few years as a starving artist. I want to try stand-up and improv and spoken word. I want to inspire people and have a story to tell them that matters. I want to do things, not because they are logical, but because they are worth it.
I cannot even express to you how freeing this new knowledge is: everything I do doesn't have to be based on logic.
I don't necessarily have to choose the most logical place to study abroad. I can choose to go wherever I want just to see what I can gather there. I don't have to choose what career is most logical. I can choose the career that will make me happiest. I can choose no career at all. I can create my own career completely devoid of logic. Do you read the mental cartwheels I am doing right now? I am free. Free of my own mental bonds that have held me down for so long.

In the middle of this blog, I took about a fifteen minute break and literally did nothing but play with my Paris snow globe. Fifteen minute, just tilting this mini globe back and forth, watching the little plastic bits fall freely over Parisian landmarks, freely. And for some reason, I felt the need to document this too. It felt relevant somehow to all of this. In a weird way, all of my new freedom makes me feel very akin to the snow globe.

sincerely, sarah

BEDA: Day 17
Sountrack: The Paper Kites

*Too many thoughts, too few words

2011-08-17T01:56:00.001-05:00

A million things are running through my mind, but I don't really know how to put any of them into words. I'm lucky to even be able to pull out the few thoughts that fly by in the form of a mental packing list. The only words I am really able to string together from my thoughts right now are "Command Hooks + rug + mattress pad". Look how lingual I am, guys? So instead of reigning in the words, I'm going to let the words take control, and right now what is flowing through my mind is a letter to a friend who leaves for college tomorrow.

To the College-Bound Boy,
Don't be like him. You know who I mean-- that guy over there that spends all of his time trashed, and is ever trashier for it. The guy who goes through girls like t-shirts and alcohol like water. The guy who goes in with a dream and comes out with regrets. I don't want you to be like him. I don't want you to be like anyone else, because most importantly, I want you to stay true to you. No matter what group of people you fall in with, no matter what major you follow, no matter what parties you go to, don't lose sight of yourself among it all.
There is only one you. This is corny, I recognize that, but it is also true. If you change to be just like everyone else, the world ends up with one more clone and one less individual. Society is full of misguided paths and road signs leading to nothing but dead-ends. The curve-balls and game-changers will abound. That's college, that's life. That's normal, that's good. But don't let that change you.
You've got talent. You've got passion. You've got dreams. Use those. Let them guide you. Things won't always come easy. In fact, things won't always come to you at all. Never, ever give up on anything simply because it is not presented to you. Sometimes you are going to have to get off of your ass and reach for them-- fight for them, but those are going to be the things most worth having, the things you will be most proud of, the things you will look back on fondly. Do not be afraid to fight for what you want, but don't be too heartbroken if you don't always get it. Be driven by your hopes, not by gratification, because that is never a good measure of anything. Gratification is instant, but fleeting. Hope springs eternal.
You've got a lot of promise. You've got a great future ahead of you. But promise me you'll try not to be too scared of failure. Failure is hard. Failure hurts. Failure is human. You are human. I am human. Therefore, we are destined to fail. Accept it now. It's natural. Take it in stride and learn from it. Don't let it hold you down, but don't over look it either. Refusing to acknowledge your setbacks is like refusing to acknowledge a wall in your path while running; it won't get you anywhere and will only end up hurting you.
Courage. Do not be afraid of your dreams, but also don't be afraid to stand up for your beliefs and opinions. If someone says something you aren't comfortable with, you don't have to agree. That doesn't make you cool, it makes you a push over. Most of all, I want you to stand up for other people. You're the sort of person that people listen to. If you say something, your voice will be heard. So make it count, love. Make it count in the littlest things that will mean the most. It takes just a few words to change a life, and you have that power.
Speaking of power, read. I don't know how much you enjoy reading, but learn to love it. Reading will take you places that the empty wallet of a college kid cannot. Reading will broaden your mind and ignite your creativity. Reading will inspire you in ways that nothing else every will. Reading will benefit everything else that you do. Even if it is just a page a day, make time to read.
As I am writing this, I am slowly realizing that this advice is as much to myself as it is to you. I'm also beginning to wonder what it's like to be on the other side of my words. How's it feel, love? Words have power. I would be foolish not to recognize this. Presently, though, I am wondering with what force I am able to make use of them. I hope the words speak more than I am able, if that makes any sense at all. Because this is important. Because your future is important. Because you are important, and it is of the utmost importance that you remember that. So if you get one word out of all this, let it be "importance". Importance, and courage.
Courage, love.

sincerely, sarah

BEDA: Day 16
Soundtrack: Explosions in the Sky

*Wasting Words

2011-08-15T15:45:00.001-05:00

I've started to feel guilty about all the words I have been wasting. I am not one for regrets, but if I had one regret over these spilled letters, it would not be choosing to do BEDA this month, but not giving my writing the attention it deserves. This may seem silly to you, but my writing is a huge priority to me, especially since I may one day be trying to find a way to live off of it. So, instead of regretting the wasted blogs I have posted the past two weeks, I will simply resolve to do better henceforth. It will not be easy, and I cannot promise I will succeed (as I move in on Sunday and start classes next Thursday), but I will try.
Words are powerful. Words express what minds think and hearts scream. Words unite the thoughts of one person with the heart of another. Words tell people that they are not alone, so from now on, I will do my best to use them well and treat them with the delicacy and respect they deserve.
I've adopted a policy of complete honesty with you, blog, so now you and I are both going to pay for that. I'm here, blogging at an oddly normal time of day, and now I am going to spill my thoughts and insecurities out for you.
I don't know what I want to do with my life. I'm sure you've gathered this by now. I'm sure you're tired of hearing this by now. I'm sure you're thinking, "Child, you are 18. Uncertainty is normal. You have four years to get a grip." But as for now, I'd like you to bear with me just one more time. I want to voice my thoughts for you on my own uncertainty, sharing with you how each thought and insecurity plays into my indecisiveness.
Thoughts on Acting
I've trained with one of the best film acting coaches in the business for four years now. I did two years of theatre classes in high school. I have tech-ed one play and starred in one as well. That said, I am very inexperienced, even for my age. I know comparison can be toxic, but pressing forth anyways: In comparing myself to others my age, I have done nothing in this area. School took priority my junior and senior year, and my resume in acting took the blow. I have read books. I have practiced scenes and monologues and accents, but personal practice doesn't pad a resume. Most people my age have mile-long lists of starring roles and independent films. I also don't have an agent, which is an issue right now. Not having an agent keeps me from being able to go on a lot of auditions, but having an empty resume doesn't help me get an agent either. It's an ugly cycle. (I got distracted at this point in the post and spent half an hour updating my resume and then submitting to agencies.) At least I get productive when I get anxious.
Another issue with acting, is all of my "cannots" and insecurities. I cannot sing, which seems to be almost a dealbreaker in this present market. Outside of that there are all the general queries of "Am I good enough?" "Am I funny enough?" etc. Probably my biggest insecurity, true to the teenage girl that I am, is feeling like I am not pretty enough. To act, girls most typically are either gorgeous or fit some sort of mold or character, I feel far too average. Most of the time, I am confident in myself, but when it comes to having to depend on nothing but my looks and my voice (aka my body as my instrument) to make a living, I am brimming with insecurities.
Thoughts on Writing
I don't really even know what career I could fall into with writing. I love writing. I am passionate about words and forming them together. However, I don't really know where I could take this. I have no experience in journalism or reporting or anything of the like. As much as I would love to write a screenplay or a script, I have no experience with either of these. I have written a few short stories, but I have never had the patience to write a book (or ANYTHING longer than a few thousand words). I used to write lyrics when I was younger, but I haven't in years (and the ones I wrote then were terrible). I'd love to do spoken word, but I cannot even seem to get my foot in the door on that one.
Thoughts on Casting/Directing
This is something I think I would really love, but I have absolutely no experience in either of these areas and absolutely no clue where to begin. This is a short bit, because that's as far as it goes. I have no idea how to get a foot in the door with either of these.
Thoughts on Non-Profit Work
I love the idea of working for Invisible Children, TOMS, The Trevor Project, TWLOHA, Dear Jack, etc, etc. But there are so many issues for me with this. First of all, what I love is getting my hands dirty, aka hands-on work. I would want to be in Africa working with kids or traveling and campaigning, or working on a suicide hotline, or doing direct fundraising. However, like so many jobs, working for any of these things would most likely be primarily a desk job-- a lot of paperwork and phone calls. I haven't ever been able to see myself working a traditional desk job. The other issue is that I am passionate about so many different causes I wouldn't even know where to begin. To help kids here being bullied or to help kids in war? To help give shoes to people in need or to help find a cure for cancer? I just want to do it all.
Thoughts on Motivational Speaking
I'm sure someone out there is laughing at this. I kind of am too. Why is this here? A good friend of mine told me that she could see me being a motivational speaker. It makes sense. I like to write (writing talks). I like to perform. I want to make a difference in people's lives. I have a story to share. And actually, there's a chance that I may be speaking at middle school's in my town this year about bullying. HOWEVER, let's be real. Motivational speakers don't really make a difference. I mean no disrespect, but anyone who can still remember high school remembers being forced to go to various assemblies in which some speaker would come in and tell us not to bully/text and drive/do drugs/drink/kill ourselves/etc. For those who listened, things would change for maybe three days, and then, give 'em a good weekend, and everything goes back to the same as it was before. Even if they make you cry, a speaker's words only have as much power as their audience gives them. The only people who get anything out of a motivational speaker are people who would have gone out and helped themselves anyways, and those aren't the people I want to help, those aren't the people who really need it.

So these are my thoughts and this is my life. What are yours?

sincerely, sarah

BEDA: Day 15
Soundtrack for packing: Glee: The 3D Concert Soundtrack
Soundtrack for this post: The Paper Kites
Days til Uni: 6

BEDA: Day 14 Girls' Night

2011-08-15T02:16:00.000-05:00

Obligated by myself to blog everyday, I am currently sitting on the couch at Alyssa's between my two best friends at 1AM, blogging. Well, intermittently blogging and watching Real Housewives of New Jersey. Don't judge. It's girls' night. We are classy ladies (types the girl who still has an orange sticky stripe on her chest from where she dropped popsicle and it slid down her shirt). This night thus far has included Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2, Steak 'n' Shake, The Glee Project, 50 First Dates, Real Housewives, and now (Real Housewives just ended) Scott Pilgrim vs. The World, which neither Rach or I have never seen before. So yay!
(taking a pause to change and wash my face) You are welcome for the info.
All in all, this has been a really good day. I went shopping with my mum and Amelia today and now it's Girls' Night. Alyssa is already all moved into college and just home for a couple days. Rach and I both move in a week. (I don't think I get this movie because as for now, I'm still rooting for the adorable little girl.) I'm not really nervous for college, but I am insanely nervous for move in. It just seems like a very stressful process to me. I just have this mental image of thousands of swarming freshman in 100+ degree heat, with armloads full of stuff, all trying to cram onto the same elevator. I think I'll feel fine about everything once my dorm is all set up. I think college will be a lot less intimidating once I have a nice, comfortable home base. (You guys, what is even happening in this movie?)
In other news, apparently I am going vegan this year. Well, not really, but in all seriousness, my dorm doesn't have a cafeteria and the closest dorm to me (across the street) is--for the first time ever!!-- going 100% vegan. I'm trying to be open minded about it. I've never had tofu, or soy-anything for that matter. I certainly don't think I'll eat every meal there, but maybe I'll really like soy things. I dunno.
Well, Lyssa wants her laptop back and I'm sleepy.

sincerely, sarah

BEDA: Day 14
Soundtrack: Scott Pilgrim

BEDA: Day 13 Bad Idea

2011-08-14T01:45:00.001-05:00

Words won't do this justice so I am going to do something I NEVER do here. Have GIF post, reader. Disappointed? You should be.

...so I pasted it, relooked through it. And thought better of it. So instead this is just going to be a very short, very poor quality blog. I have a lot of thoughts right now, I just don't now how to put them into words. I saw Glee 3D. I spent the evening with my THREE (Wubby's part of the family) best friends. My mum wrote me a letter about me heading off to college. I said another goodbye tonight.

In retrospect, deciding to do BEDA this month seems like a very terrible idea. I've had maybe TWO quality posts in the past 14 days and not one of them has been posted on time. I am consistently writing these between packing and sleeping or socializing and sleeping.

To finish BEDA or to quit before it gets worse?

sincerely, sarah

BEDA: Day 13

Sountrack: Glee 3D Soundtrack

i am tired, man

2011-08-13T00:43:00.003-05:00

I owe you a blog. I recognize this. But I just got home. I have now been awake for 40 hours. Screw this, man, I'm going to sleep.
Will update this tomorrow.
g'night, sneetches.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Apparently, when I'm really tired, I get really classy...and then make Dr. Seuss references. That last part I can deal with. So anyways, I am now in the home stretch. It actually hadn't hit me until I typed that last sentence. This is my last week at home. *shivers*
I am so lucky to get to spend this weekend with my two best friends. Tonight they are (so kindly) being dragged with me to see Glee 3D. Tomorrow we are going to see Harry Potter together, then having a sleepover and watching The Glee Project together. I'm going to let you know right now that the rest of this paragraph is going to be uncomfortably sentimental, not for me, but for you. I'm going to miss this a lot. Just quality time with the two of them. Alyssa has been fantastically cheesy lately, and I have enjoyed every second of it. I'm not really worried about us though. I know that we will keep in touch, that we will hang out on every break. Things won't really be too different.
Outside of them, I'm not sure who I will stay in touch with. Cate, Lauren, Anna. Certainly them too, but otherwise, I don't know. And I'm not really worried about it. Not that I don't love the people in my life, but everyone has their phases in each other's lives and not all of them can last. I learned that through moving, and I'm perfectly fine with that. This is the way the world is. There's really nothing to be upset over.
This last bit here isn't really going to relate, but since I just read this poem again earlier today, it seems like a nice way to end my blog

This is the way the world ends

This is the way the world ends

This is the way the world ends

Not with a bang but a whimper.

sincerely, sarah

BEDA: Day 12

Soundtrack: Someone Like You by Adele

The Least Coherent Blog of My Life

2011-08-12T05:09:00.000-05:00

Hello! Happy 04:54!
In about 35 minutes, I am going to go start setting up my garage sale. Until then, I have been mainlining caffeine and packing my world in to boxes. The problem is I want to take everything. The bigger problem is that I have more possessions than I could have imagined. There are stupid things I keep wanting to pack, like my jar of Nutella. My giant bag of bubblegum. Coloring books. Bubbles. It seems silly to pack these things. I can just get Nutella or bubbles at the dollar store. But why go out and get more if I have it already? It is a delicate balance and everyone seems to have contradicting advice. My roommate says bring the bare-minimum. My friend Ellen (UT) says just go ahead and bring everything. But at any rate, this is not the point of this blog!
My garage sale!!!
This promises to be the most unorganized garage sale of all time. I have put prices on nothing. I have no strategy for how to set anything out. I literally just have unorganized, unsorted bags/boxes of I-don't-even-know-what-at-this-point. My best plan is to go throw it all out in an hour and hope that someone is willing to sort through it. Oh, and did I mention I'm doing this entirely by myself? Sigh. Then I have actual work at 16:30. This promises to be a very long day (and not even just because I will have been awake for for about 40 hours by the time I get home tonight).
So what have I done tonight?
Packed, tested a ton of pens and sharpies, watched Furt (Glee episode), watched three 11/Amy Doctor Who episodes, jammed to JMac, spent an hour playing harmonica, practiced my rapping skills, jammed to Foster the People, made popcorn, livetweeted my adventures, AND MORE! Don't you want my exciting life?

sincerely, sarah
BEDA: Day 11
Soundtrack: "Victory of the Daleks" (aka my third DW episode of the night)

*College Bucket List

2011-08-11T14:46:00.002-05:00

Study abroad
Go to as many concerts as possible
Take at least one roadtrip
Visit friends in LA (aka Genesis)
Go to Coachella
Travel as much as possible
Get an agent
Visit Tasha
Become awesome at guitar
Learn Piano
Write a musical
Write a screenplay
Direct a movie
Figure out what I want to do with my life
Act as much as possible
Work for a helpline
Be very involved with various causes
Meet people who inspire me
Spend minimal amounts of time on the computer/watching TV
Improv as much as possible
Become fully fluent in Spanish
Become fluent in Italian
Read as much as possible
Do something you wouldn't normally do (added by Lauren)
Get published
Learn to cook
Go to Comic-Con
See Meredith Stepien stand-up live
See as many plays and musicals as possible
Go to at least one Potter-Con (*fingers crossed* Leaky)
Don't pass up good opportunities
Never say no to free food
Write at least 15 songs
Write at least 15 short stories
See Glee! Live (*fingers crossed* with Tasha)
Work at a haunted house
Hug at least three people a day (this seems like a reasonable goal)
Tell people how important they are every day.

Anything you think I should add?

sincerely, sarah

BEDA: Day 10

Soundtrack: Zach Berkman

That awkward moment when you miss a BEDA post...

2011-08-11T00:29:00.000-05:00

So... I've been weirdly social lately and when I'm not being social, I am packing my world into cardboard boxes. I guess that hasn't left much time for things like blogging (or working out or starbucks visits), so now that it is after midnight of the second day I haven't blogged... I will do two. Woo. OH. And ALSO, I'm having a garage sale on friday, so on top of packing, I've been getting ready for that. Sigh. Even now I'm not blogging. This present blog is utterly pointless. I don't know why I am even wasting my time writing. I have one loyal reader, and this won't even be entertaining for her. If anyone has advice about what to pack and what to leave, let me know. Really. Do it. I don't know what else to say in this useless post. I don't know how I am going to write another, more worthwhile one after this. I guess to end this pointless thingamabob, I will list off some things I've been doing.

forced maxwell to watch Moulin Rouge with me
had a sleepover and watched tons of Tosh with Rachael
skyped with Alyssa (with Rachael) who is at college
said goodbye to Ava
worked
got breakfast with Bailey
went to the mall with Bailey
had lunch dates with my dad
gotten distracted from this blog

this is not exciting. SORRY.

sincerely, sarah

The Winding Down

2011-08-08T20:49:00.000-05:00

So, the summer is slowly drawing to a close. I have spent much of today packing for university, which is far more difficult than I could possibly have imagined. The biggest issue is decided what books/movies to take and which ones to bring. I'm going to stress this again. IT IS REALLY DIFFICULT.
To take all seven Harry Potter books or leave them?
To take my box set of Gilmore Girls or leave it?
To take Apples to Apples and Disney Scene-It or leave them?
WHY IS THIS SO HARD? I haven't even started with my clothes yet. That will be a whole different battle. So if you are reading this and you have advice on this sort of thing, let me know.
Aside from packing, the goodbyes are starting to flow in a regular pattern. Kevin last Thursday at his end of summer party. Alyssa last Friday. Kyle last night when he showed up outside my house at 1am. More this week and the next and then I leave.
I've also (as always) spent a few moments pondering the post-summer regrets-- all of the things I planned to do, but didn't. But then I realized that this is really the last summer ever that I will be able to spend doing nothing, so there's nothing wrong with enjoying it.
As I write this, I have just started skyping with my best friend who just finished day one of Rush week at OSU. Craziness. We're really growing up, aren't we? In less than two weeks, I will move in to my dorm. Wow. This is getting cliche.
SO ANYWAYS,
The thing I am working on most in my life is being optimistic. A lot of time's my first instinct is to assume the worst or let something stupid affect my mood, and this is a terrible habit to have fallen into. What I am working on doing now is this: whenever I say something or think something negative, I force myself to go back and examine all the bright sides of a situation and to work out why things may not have gone as well as planned. Hopefully this will help; it seems to be so far. I just really admire people who are positive all the time and spill sunshine into the lives of everyone they encounter. I want to be like that. I want people to leave me happier than they came, not more depressed. Any advice, optimists?

sincerely, sarah

BEDA: Day 8 (I decided there was no point in putting it in the title)
Soundtrack: Andrew Bird

*BEDA Day 7: The Future Freaks Me Out

2011-08-08T00:22:00.003-05:00

We waste away the days with nicotine and television samples

From an era we hate to admit we embrace

We fail to represent

We fail to be content

We fail at everything we ever even try to attempt

And so the story goes

As only Betty knows

It’s time to take control

I'm eighteen, so to be fair, this is normal. But here goes:

I have no idea what I want to do with my life. Sort of. Essentially I know a few things: I cannot see myself doing anything that will pay much. I see myself doing something that will help people. I could definitely see myself helping teenagers. One of my friends told me tonight that she could really see me as a motivational speaker. And this is one of the major reasons why I would love to succeed as an actress, because then I would really have the ability to help people. It wouldn't be just some random chick telling people that they are beautiful and important, it would be someone they trusted.

That's my dream. When i daydream about being famous, I don't daydream about crowds or applause or awards, I daydream about the day I get to tell someone they are so so important and actually make them believe it. There are so many actors who stand up for/ reach out to underprivileged kids or kids who are picked on for their race or sexuality, but there isn't much said to the mass of kids and teens who have just simply been dealt a bad hand-- who are a little bit quirky, who are a little bit shy, who were in the wrong place at the wrong time. One sentence from a celebrity really makes an impact. For me, there are loads of celebrities who have made a difference by things they said or how they have acted, but one thing that really stands out in my mind is a simple comment that Glee's Lea Michelle made in an interview:

"You don't have to look like everybody else."

I think I would make an awesome motivational speaker, but kids dont listen to that stuff. No one really cares about "this girl I know named sally who hated herself cause she was bullied" Well that's nice, Speaker Johnny but you and Sally were in school before there was internet. I mean, I just left high school. I remember those assemblies. People will change for about a week and then things would be normal again. It's high school, and they know as well as I do that those speakers are paid to be there and that the teachers don't want to sit through this any more than the students do. "It's unfortunate but very true. As much as motivational speakers have stories that need to be told, the only people who are going to learn are the ones who would seek out such information in the first place, not the ones who are forced to listen" (Cate). BUT when a celebrity you admire says "Hey, you're important" you believe them.
I want that so badly. To be able to look someone in the eyes and tell them they are important, and see them realize it.

So where am I going to end up? I have no idea. How am I going to get there? I don't know that either. So let's find out, shall we?

sincerely, sarah
BEDA: Day 7

Soundtrack: Cazz

http://www.reverbnation.com/cazz

(though this post was inspired by "The Future Freaks Me Out" by Motion City Soundtrack)

BEDA Day 6: A Writer's Dilemma

2011-08-06T23:34:00.000-05:00

I mentioned in a previous post how my father knows a frightening amount about guns, and I also said that I wouldn't say why on the internet. Well, I still won't go into specifics, but I will say this: My father worked for the government during Vietnam. I cannot say specifically what he did, but in his own words "If I had had access to the news outlets that were playing here at the time, I would have thought I was hallucinating. Every politician with a mouth was all over the news saying that we weren't where I was, that we weren't doing exactly what I was doing." My father spent more than fourteen months on foreign soil. For more than fourteen months, my father had no contact with anyone he knew. My father killed people and trained others to do the same.

He was young and that was ages ago. He wasn't allowed to speak a word about it until everything was declassified eight years ago, but you wouldn't know the difference. I have only heard him speak about it once, which was this week, and he spoke in vague terms. It was a terrible time in his life. He doesn't like talking about it and he tries not to think about it.

My dilemma? I know that there is an incredible story here. A unique story. A story dying to be heard. My fingers are itching to write it and the gears in my mind are already turning. I want to write this so, so, so badly. However, I have barely enough for an introduction right now. I have every intention of doing oodles of research on Vietnam, but the fact of the matter is that I cannot write this without interviewing my father. My dad refuses to think about it, much less talk about it. I don't know how he would react to me wanting to write about this or asking him to talk about it, but I'm afraid if he agreed to talk, it would somehow break something within him.

What do I do?

sincerely, sarah

BEDA: Day 6

Soundtrack: Explosions in the Sky

BEDA Day 5: Why is this so hard?

2011-08-05T23:34:00.000-05:00

I do not understand. I said goodbye to friends last year. I get that it's not really even goodbye. One of my closest friends lives in Florida, another lives in Michigan. That's fine. But somehow, the knowledge that my best friend is going six hours away kills me.
Tonight, I was texting Alyssa at work and her mom had decided that she did not have time for any social interactions tonight, so I was not going to be able to say goodbye. In the end, I got off work and drove over there, she told her mom that she and Mary were gonna go get the mail and walk the dog and came out to talk to me. I cried on the way there. I swore I wouldn't cry once I got there. Of course I did. Not tearing up. Not one little tear. I was a complete mess. I tried not to. I kept laughing, trying to stop crying. This of course made Alyssa cry. So then together we just made one big emotional wreck. Finally we stopped crying and talked for awhile. Then her mom called her to come inside, so we hugged goodbye several times, I got in my car and drove off (and immediately started crying again). I drove around for awhile because I didn't want to come home yet, but now here I am, at home, writing this, crying on and off.
I feel ridiculous, and frankly kind of pathetic. This is such a natural, normal, common thing. What right do I have to be so upset? It's just the little things all adding up. The fact that I didn't get to give her music yet. The fact that we never got to see Harry Potter together. The fact that we never watched A Very Potter Sequel together. The fact that we didn't get to have another sunrise sleepover. At home, we live less than a two minute drive a part. She comes to see me at least once a week at work. We have impromptu sleepovers several times a week. I can randomly swing by her house on a whim just to say hi.
I feel so silly. I know I will be okay. We will fall into a natural rhythm. We still have Skype and texting and phone calls and tumblr and everything else. We have breaks and the ability to visit each other. Rachael and I will have each other. But right now, I just have to work on figuring out how to master the sadness.

sincerely, sarah

BEDA: Day 5
Soundtrack: Eli Et Papillon//Young the Giant

BEDA DAY 4: The Posts Are Getting Later

2011-08-05T01:48:00.000-05:00

In my defense, I didn't get home until after midnight. Today was an exciting day, so I will actually spend this blog telling you about my day (in a weirdly structured format).
Activity One: Introducing My High School Youth Minister to Harry Potter
So the theme for the youth group kick-off in the Fall is going to be Deathly Hallows, this primarily means a four scene skit. The issue? The lovely lady in charge of creating the kick-off has never seen a scene or read a page of Harry Potter. So apparently her first instinct was to come to me (I have decided to feel honored about this). At any rate, I spent two hours in her office trying to explain the last movie to her, which meant trying to explain all seven books to her because this series is a mass of layers that don't add up until the seventh, and final, installment. Needless to say, we are meeting up again on Monday.
Activity Two: Gun Range with my Dad
My dad knows a frightening amount about guns for reasons I won't post on the internet. But at any rate, since FBI is a viable future career option for me, and since my dad and I needed a good bonding activity, he's teaching me to shoot. My dad has a .32 and a .380, and my mum has a .38 revolver. Since I'm working on basic target training, I rent a .22 and then use my dad's .380 for a round or two just to practice working with a little more stopping power. If you are like, well, anyone who knows me, this whole section of this will probably be shocking. I don't know why, but apparently no one who knows me can put "Sarah" and "gun range" together in their heads. *shrugs* I guess I'm just two adorable to reek of gun powder (which I still do, by the way). We were at the range for a couple hours, though to be honest, I only shot about 120 rounds. After we left, we went to lunch at some place called Chubby's. Then we raced to beat Dallas traffic so I could get to work. I FORGOT TO MENTION, I even got a battle scar from today. I did a rapid fire round with the .380 and one of the casing's got stuck between the top of my arm and my shirt straight out of the gun, so I have a nice little third-degree burn.
Activity Three: Coming Home to Check the Mail
I got home to eight packages and one letter today. Six of the packages were more of the maps I'm using to decorate my dorm (just waiting for London to get here). The last two were college textbooks (one for history and one for theatre). The letter was my parking pass for UNT. I have never gotten so much actual mail (all the college spam of Junior and Senior year does not count as real mail).
Activity Four: Work
Least exciting part of the day. Our A/C is still janky so it is still four billion degrees at work, which is thrilling. I trained a new kid tonight. He seemed alright and had a good taste in music, but it kept me from being able to read. ~~that awkward moment when you actually have to work at work~~ And I forgot my tips at work again, so I'm out four dollars. DANG IT :( Hopefully Alex saved them for me. I'd text him and ask, but he lost his phone.
Activity Five: End of Summer Party
With most of the kids from my youth group. It was fantastic just to get to see and talk to everyone. I don't really have much to say about it. Good snacks, fantastic people who make me smile and laugh and cry and love.
Activity Six: Curbside Chats with Amelia
After leaving the party, Amelia and I ended up sitting outside for another hour just talking about life. We haven't had a heart-to-heart in ages, so it was nice to catch up. It was a little awkward though, because we had said our goodbyes, then ended up just sitting outside the house, so everyone else passed us on their way out and we were the last ones to drive away.
From there, I raced home to watch SYTYCD and write this doodad.

sincerely, sarah

BEDA: Day 4
Soundtrack: Frank Sinatra

BEDA Day 3: Feeling Grown Up

2011-08-04T00:51:00.000-05:00

Apparently I really like missing this daily deadline by an hour, but I will continue doing this because if I force myself to finish before midnight, it will be a lot of three sentence blogs written at 23:58. So it's 00:04, officially the next day, but time to write about the day before. (I also like writing these an hour after the day ends, because then I can write about the previous day in it's fullness.
It's slowly starting to hit me that I am actually growing up. It's just the little moments. Today, I made my own salon appointment and paid for it myself. From there, I went to lunch with a good friend to catch up and talk about college and the future. We spent a lot of time talking about the pressures of the change and all of the new responsibilities coming to us-- and the new fears. Lunch with her also led to another conversation, but I'll get back to that in a minute. I then went to work for a couple hours before heading downtown with my best friend. We went to dinner at this Mexican restaurant in uptown Dallas before heading over to Dallas Comedy House. Dallas Comedy House has been a big part of growing up for me this summer, and it has very little to do with the 18+ age restriction, and everything to do with the fact that everyone there treats me like an adult. Yes, I get offered drinks and asked if I'm going to the bar with everyone after (which I always just politely decline), but it has nothing to do with that either. It's just that I am spoken to as an equal there. It's a beautiful thing.
The biggest realization today happened between work and DCH (and yes, this is me getting back to the aforementioned conversation). At lunch with my friend today, we got to talking about the possibility of me visiting her. The aforementioned friend is going to Columbia (which is in NYC, for anyone not in the know). We had talked about this a little bit last night, but it hadn't even really seemed like a viable possibility to me. When I got home from work, I decided to bring this up with my mother, and to do it in the most mature way possible, so I asked if she would sit down with me and work out my personal budget for this coming year (which we never ended up doing). She asked what I was wanting to allot money for and I told her that I wanted to take classes at DCH and that I wanted to visit Angela for the last part of Christmas break. We went back and forth and essentially, had a very reasonable conversation between two adults about this possibility and now it's actually happening. At no point was I really asking permission, because it has apparently come to be understood that my major life choices are now really mine to make-- kinda scary. But at any rate, this coming January, I will be flying to NYC with one of my good friends and exploring the city with her. My mom even said she would pay for my airfare as a Christmas present. My first "grown up adventure." (Proof that I am not an adult in the fact that I just used the term "grown up adventure")

sincerely, sarah

BEDA: Day 3
Soundtrack: Justin Nozuka

*Crossing Things of the List

2011-08-03T00:39:00.001-05:00

Alyssa, if you see this, which you inevitably will, when I started typing this, I swore I'd stop and save this at least for later in the week, but if I wait any longer it will be too much to handle, much less write about.

My best friend leaves for college on Saturday. My best friend leaves for another state Saturday and I am scared. Many of my friends left for college last year, but this? This is different. Not to diminish the worth of any of my other friends who have left, but this? This is my best friend. My other half. The person with whom I never have to finish sentences or stories or thoughts or conversations...because she just gets it. ...Me. She gets me. To her, I can say one single word and that word will speak volumes and lifetimes. A meeting of the eyes holds a conversation, each gesture or shrug a universal truth shared only between the two of us.
Have you ever had a friend like that? The kind of friend that makes you want to be better, to do better, to be cooler, to be wiser, to be everything you have the potential to be, but in the same breath makes you feel more accepted than anyone else ever could? The kind of friend who knows each and every version of you and exactly how all those pieces fit together at your core? One person who truly, truly understands you like no one else. Because I hadn't.
Don't get me wrong. I know this is natural. This separation is necessary, normal, healthy. We are eighteen years old. We have graduated high school. And it is time. I am also fully aware that distance means nothing in terms of a friendship, that a solid bond will bridge the gap. But these bits of knowledge make the separation no easier to bear.
It is my personal belief that every person has a sixth sense that I call "presence". You may not have noticed it before, but look for it now, and I promise you will. When two people are near each other-- not touching, but just close-- they can sense each other's presence. Not just their presence, but their emotions, their attitude, their thoughts. Sitting in a concert hall, you can feel the presence of a person behind you, and when they are gone, you feel their absence. They is something so special, so important, about being. About being together. Even if nothing is being said, or even done, there is power in presence. There is connection while sitting and watching a movie with someone, a comfort in simultaneous actions, a kinship found in eating together walking together--facing the world side by side, comforted in the fullness of knowing that at least in that moment, You are not alone.
So Alyssa, now I'm speaking directly to you. And I'm going to ask your forgiveness for tears, rather than your permission, because I can already feel them coming. These past four years have been forever and yet not nearly long enough. We weren't best friends instantly, but we worked our way there. From the moment we met, we quickly started becoming very important parts of each other's past, but in each of those moments, that present was so fully lived. Between discreet tears over vulnerable television characters, to year long rants over family situations, finances, friendships, and failures, all of our individual weaknesses became mutual bonds, strengthening the silly friendship that began over a boy band. We've learned who we are through learning to know each other.
I know you're nervous. Sometimes I think you're more afraid than you let on. You've got this whole new world opening before you, and you're entering it by yourself, and that scares you. I'm scared too. I'm scared that the new things we learn, the new ways in which we grow will grow us apart. But I am not at all scared for you. I believe in you so much more than you could ever know. Like the Doctor believed in Donna, like Hermione believed in Harry, like Robin believed in Pooh, I believe in you, so "promise me you'll always remember: You're braver than you believe, and stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think." Promise me you'll always remember that "according to classical aerodynamics, it is impossible for a bumblebee to fly" but they do so every day. And most importantly, remember that "it does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live," because I fear that far too often we forget that one. The future is imminent, but the future is yours, and you are going magical places and you will do fantastic things.
We've faced so much together these past four years, so just for old time's sake, let's face this down together too. Side by side, hand in hand, let's face the future strong and with our heads held high. This is a separation of space, a temporary absence of presence, but it is not goodbye. So together let's pledge not to be afraid. It's really nice to know that you think we're all out of time, but darling don't you know we just started our lives?

sincerely, sarah

BEDA Day 2

*10 Things I Should Have Learned By Now

2011-08-02T01:20:00.001-05:00

I should have learned by now that things will always end in an eventual goodbye.
I should have learned by now that I cannot plan for everything.
I should have learned by now that whatever it is will always be in the last place I go looking for it.
I should have learned by now that I cannot change people, and that they will rarely change themselves.
I should have learned by now that spending all my time on the internet will do nothing but stifle me.
I should have learned by now that every person is just a person.
I should have learned by now that the third step from the bottom of the staircase is only squeaky when I am trying to sneak downstairs.
I should have learned by now that distance has nothing to do with a relationship.
I should have learned by now that text messaging is not the sole means of communication.
I should have learned by now that staying up all night does not lend itself to anything positive.

sincerely, sarah

oh and PS- after my third post today, Happy BEDA (blog every day in august WOO)

*10 Things I Know to Be True

2011-08-02T00:55:00.001-05:00

I know that the sun rises every morning, even if I cannot see it.
I know that I have a God who loves me, no matter what.
I know that many of the stars I see died thousands of years ago, and what I am really seeing is just an echo.
I know that I am lucky to be a part of the Harry Potter Generation and that someday I will be able to proudly tell my kids: "I grew up with them."
I know that kids ask questions because the world hasn't yet taught them that questioning is not always acceptable.
I know that what most people refer to as "Frankenstein" is actually Frankenstein's monster.
I know that I have a terrible singing voice, but I also know that I rarely let that stop me from singing anyway.
I know that I cannot actually plan for everything.
I know that my phone battery cannot last a single day without recharging multiple times.
I know that I cannot last a single day without recharging multiple times.

sincerely, sarah

This post was inspired by this woman:

The Abyss Before Me

2011-08-01T23:37:00.000-05:00

I am so freaking scared of the future. I mean all in all, I know God has plans for me. I know things will work out for the best. I know that it's not really in my control. BUT, in practicality, I am currently trying to figure out how to put one foot in front of the other (cue OneRepublic's Marching On).
I have always been the sort of girl that needs a set goal. I have that goal, and I work toward it. Everything else falls simply into place because my eye is on the prize and each step is toward reaching it. High School? All right, we will throw ourselves into all academic opportunities in order to work toward college. Aiming towards law school? All right. Meet with pre-law adviser, buy LSAT book and start studying (three years early), etc. But today, I became Wile E. Coyote in this cartoon of life. I was running along merrily, until today when I paused to look down. Upon looking down, I discovered no ground beneath my feet.
As supportive as my parents have been of acting (paying for headshots/acting classes/etc), they are very much of the "real job" persuasion. My parents are currently appeasing me by allowing me to minor in theatre on my pre-law track (English major), "as long as it doesn't get in the way of my real studies." I love reading and I love writing, so there's no reason for me to not want to be an English major. I loved mock trial, I love the idea of working in the criminal justice system, so there's no reason for me to not want to be a lawyer. But when I daydream, these subjects don't pervade my thoughts. I daydream of moving to Chicago, making minimum wage at a crappy job by day and studying improv by night. My parents want me to be a career woman. And this is understandable. Every parent wants their kid to be safe, to be provided for. Particularly the parents of a daughter-- an only daughter. But my dreams rarely include a big house, a desk job, or a satisfying paycheck. I dream of dingy little apartments in Chicago, New York, or LA. I dream of pushing myself to be better everyday. I dream of hundreds of rejection, just for those few "Yes"'s that make everything worth it. The more my parents push me towards a "safe" job, the more vivid my dreams of "living on the edge" become. It's not teenage rebellion, I love my parents and know they want what's best for me-- it's just me realizing that I'm working toward their dream, not mine.
So where did I end up with this? Today, while talking to my friend Angela, I realized all of this. I then proceeded to schedule an interview for AMDA in October. A few hours later, anxiety levels rising, I proceeded to email about 6 colleges and their acting programs about their transfer process.
So what do I do? Do I work toward a degree in English? Toward law school? Or do I drop it all to be an acting major and set myself up for what is most likely to be a very unsuccessful lifestyle? Would I regret not following my dreams to see where they lead? Will I regret not setting myself up for a good career I would probably be fine with? I don't know. And THAT is what is freaking me out. I don't have a set goal. I don't have a prize to set my eyes on. All their is is empty space surrounding me. I can see where I came from, but I can't see where I'm headed. So how do I know which direction I am supposed to head towards? How do I plan for the unknown?*

sincerely, sarah

*this, reader, is a rhetorical question.

Shut it down.

2011-07-31T00:48:00.000-05:00

I'm doing that obsessive thing again. Pottermore. Pottermore. Pottermore. If I continue on this path, I won't do anything else for the next week. While I am sure that is okay with some people, that's not me. I love Harry Potter and of course I look forward to being a part of Pottermore, but (to repeat myself), this really isn't the point. I don't want to spend all of my time sitting on the internet (I know what you're thinking. This doesn't count. Yes I am on the internet, but I am writing. That's productive.) I have so much I could be doing. For example, here's a list of things I wish I had done more of this summer:

spending time with my puppy, exercising, playing guitar, reading, working on Spanish, volunteering, acting, writing, spending time with my parents, cleaning, starting Italian, watching musicals, traveling, roadtripping, taking walks, riding my bike, getting to know Denton, geocaching, dressing up, going to concerts, being creative, dancing, going to Dallas Comedy House, working, etc etc

So I think I will let this Pottermore thing pass. I need to shut it down, and get creative.

sincerely, sarah

*Paper People

2011-07-22T23:33:00.001-05:00

I don't think I have ever loved/"liked"/whatever-you-want-to-call-it a real person.

Don't get me wrong. I have played the role of your stereotypical teenage girl many times. I chat with my friends late into the night and we paint each others' nails and giggle about boys. I have had my fair share of "crushes" and late nights wondering what a text meant or if a gesture meant more than directly implied (no girls, it rarely does). I have had crushes on people I know and celebrities alike.

But is it really them that I adore? Never.

Allow me to explain.

Let's create a guy, we'll call him Sean Dean ~~because all the letters are close and it's fun because they look like they should rhyme, but don't~~. So let's say Sean Dean and I meet. Or we could say he is famous, and I find out about him, because this progresses the same either way. So Sean and I meet, and I start to learn more about him. The more I learn, the more my mind extrapolates. Oh, he likes books? How romantic! I can just picture him now, sitting at a coffee shop, nose buried in a story, mind somewhere in a land far away. In reality, Sean Dean likes Harry Potter and remembers liking that one book about the boys stranded on the island that he had to read for school one time. He volunteers with children? What a kind heart! He must be such a charitable person with such a good soul. In reality, he needs service hours to graduate, and his nephew's teacher needed some help. I realize that these may be a bit exaggerated. Sean Dean certainly has some very good qualities and he makes great choices and he does great things, but my mind latches on to the little details and blows them up.

I do this with real people and celebrities alike, but it is far worse with real people. It is hard for a celebrity to disappoint you. They are sort of this distant human, who exists, but in a very different universe from your own. However, with people in every day life, this is a dangerous habit. I wrote an entire blog on this previously, but to quote John Green again, "What a treacherous thing, to believe that a person is more than a person." And it truly is. I pride myself on my ability to read people, but when it comes to some people, my mind extrapolates even that. I find myself falling in love, not with who they truly are, but with this paper version I have created of them. I create them of such elaborate designs that they fool even me. But the unfortunate thing about paper people is that they hold no merit-- they are composed of no actual substance. The moment you lean on a paper person, you find yourself falling right through.

sincerely, sarah

Inspired

2011-07-22T22:58:00.000-05:00

I'm feeling inspired, so I'll apologize now if I end up with multiple blogposts tonight.

Firstly, and unrelatedly (<- "that's not a real word" SHUTUPSPELLCHECK), THANK YOU KYLE. THANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOU.

Now the point of this:

For the past week, I have started a new habit. I have gone to Starbucks for 1-2 hours, gotten a drink and a cake pop, and just sat in a comfy chair and read. I haven't seen anyone I know or had any great encounter with people, just great encounters with books. This habit has done far more for me than my failed attempts to make a habit out of the gym. I am a ray of sunshine, compared to normal. I come home in a far better mood than I left. This is a habit that I will definitely continue as often as possible.
I can't really explain it, but it puts me completely in my element. I have missed reading like this. No distractions. No internet. No iPod. No parents hollering at me to do something. Reading is never, ever a waste of time. I keep a list in a journal of books that I have read and every time (<- I always want to make that one word) I finish one I write it down there. It's just such a satisfying feeling. I finished something. I became a little bit more educated, a little bit more versed, a little bit more cultured.
Since flinging myself back into reading (with force), I have been happier, I have been more pleasant, and I have been more inspired. Writers' block, be gone. And go it has. I haven't felt this inspired in AGES.
I love books. so so so so so so SO much.

sincerely, sarah

*People

2011-07-22T00:08:00.001-05:00

A New Attitude for a New Stage of Life

"People are just people. They shouldn't make you nervous."

This. All of this.

See those people over there? Why do you care what they think? They will probably judge you. They might think you're weird. But does it matter? Go. No matter who it is. Say hi. Introduce yourself, because, why not? If they think they are to good for you, all that tells you is that they are both insecure and wrong.

I don't care if you're a science nerd, football jock, black, white, preppy, hipster, brilliant, clumsy, gay, straight, majority, minority, confident, lonely, etc. I am no better than you. You are no better than me. Because at the end of the day, we are all the same. If I think for one second that I am better than you, I am doing nothing but elevating my own insecurities with my sense of self-worth. If I think for one second that you are better than me, then I am doing nothing but discrediting myself-- taking away what it is that makes me, me. Just a human being.

And whether you are tall, skinny, fat, Asian, Mexican, Canadian, sick, healthy, disabled, insecure, overly-confident, WHATEVER. That's all it is. That's all we are. Human. And there is nothing intimidating about human.

What is human? Human is flawed. Human is insecure. Human is up at night worried sick over that last text message. Human is butterflies and weak-knees. Human is self-conscious about acne and the stupid thing you said in front of everyone and the fact that you've never had a girlfriend. Human is uncertain and curious and questioning. Human is "What did she mean when she said this?" and "How do I explain what I feel without making myself look like an idiot?". Human is stage-fright and pre-game jitters. Human is trying to figure out right from wrong. And failing. Human is failure. Human is trying again despite that failure. Human is "Do they talk about me behind my back?" and "I hope he doesn't think I'm annoying.". Human is sweaty palms and quickened pulses. Human is hopes and human is dreams. Human is loving what you have, but wanting what you don't. Human is "Do I look okay in this?" and "What if he doesn't feel the same?". Human is alone in a crowded room. Human is the desire to stay and the desire to go simultaneously. Human is hard. For everyone. I promise.

You can change that. One word. To that person too good for you. To that girl you think looks cute today. To that kid who sits next to you that you're too scared to talk to. To that guy you've noticed at the coffee shop. To the person alone in a crowded room. One word. Just one word to change everything.

Hello.

*Fandom

2011-07-16T13:58:00.001-05:00

(before reading this, know that this does not relate to Harry Potter)

There are two kinds of "fans," and this really relates to almost anything. Fans of actors, singers, writers, dancers. TV shows, movies, etc.

The First:
The primary type of "fan" is where the term actually comes from: Fanatics. This group of people spends a vast amount of their time obsessing. They follow their idols on Twitter. They read fan sites religiously. They find interviews by the dozens and constantly know what these celebrities are doing. They talk about them, blog about them, think about them, etc. This type of fandom is a dangerous type, because it interrupts the potential of that fan. Instead of living their own life, they end up living vicariously through this person/these people. They fantasize about meeting them. They envy people who have already met them. Instead of living, they spend all day finding out what these people are up to.

The Second:
The second type of fandom is those who become inspired. These people see a celebrity's success and draw from that. This TV show/movie/book/actor changes them, and for that, they love them. But, rather than spending their time dwelling on this celebrity, they begin to live out the changes that have been ignited. They pick up their own instrument. They sing. They dance. They act. They write. They live. They live each and every day, inspired by those who came before them in doing what they love. Instead of escaping their mundane life by living through the exciting life of another, they strive to make their life just as exciting.

On this spectrum, I currently fall far closer to the first in too many areas. And that really bothers me about myself. It's a way of hiding. It's the easy route. But it's boring. It's unproductive. It gets me no where. Frankly, it's a little creepy. So to move from first to second. That is the goal. To drop the fan blogs and pick up my gutar. To stop reading interviews and start reading books again. To step away from Tumblr and toward my acting. To stop finding thrill in the adventures of other people and choose my own adventure. That's the goal. Starting. . .NOW.

sincerely, sarah

*I Want to Marry a Neville Longbottom

2011-07-15T17:38:00.001-05:00

Because, really, what more could anyone ask for?

Neville is the embodiment of courage. It took him awhile to come completely out of his shell, but even as the quiet, shy kid he had the courage to stand up for what was right. As times became more serious, he set aside his own personal reservations, throwing off any sense of self-importance, and was willing to fight to the death for his friends. Constantly throughout these books, Neville has marched on when no one else was even willing to stand.

Neville is the embodiment of loyalty. From the beginning, he has been loyal through and through. He was loyal to his parents when many children wouldn’t have understood— would have been ashamed. He was loyal to his gran long before she ever believed in him. He was loyal to the trio long before they began to recognize his friendship. He was loyal to Luna (even in the books as a friend) when most others mocked and teased her. He was loyal to the fight when so many others were ready to surrender.

Neville is intelligent. I feel like often through the books, he is perceived as rather dumb, but even McGonagall directly directly tells him that “there is nothing wrong with (his) work except lack of confidence.” And that confidence was most certainly gained.
Most importantly, Neville has grown so, so much. He knows what it is like to be the underdog— to be teased, to be shy, to be afraid, to be uncertain. He has been there and he has allowed these experiences to let him grow.
So really, what else could you ask for?

I love Harry. I love Ron. They are truly heroes in my book. But more than anyone, Neville chose this. Harry had greatness thrust upon him. Ron achieved greatness through loyalty to his best friends. Neville achieved greatness through sheer goodness of heart.

sincerely, sarah

*The Art of Interesting

2011-07-10T16:07:00.001-05:00

   Here is my dilemma: I spend so much time trying to make myself seem interesting that I don't leave time for actually being interesting. As of late, I spend more time talking pretentiously about books than I do reading books. I spend more time talking about my desire to play guitar and piano than I do playing either. I spend more time advertising the fact that I act than actually working on my craft. I spend more time ranting about writers' block than I do writing or at least trying to be inspired. I whine about wanting to be in shape instead of going to the gym or going for a run. Why? Because apparently I have this massive unspoken desire to be deemed interesting.
   I drive my little silver VW Bug with the huge sunflower next to the steering wheel, wearing the clothes I most enjoy, blasting Arcade Fire or Freelance Whales through my open windows and sunroof, with crazy curly blonde hair blowing in the wind. One of my best friends calls me an Alpha-Hipster. To quote him: "There are few people who fall under this category. They are the people that hipsters want to be." Here I constantly refute him, telling him that these are just the things I enjoy. To which he responds: "Exactly, you listen to these bands and wear the clothes you do because that is genuinely what you enjoy. You don't do drugs or try to impress anyone with your obscure music taste. Thus, you are an Alpha-Hipster." Each time he calls me a hipster or makes any reference to it, I jokingly hit him and make a face, but he knows as well as I do that somewhere inside, I am trying to hide the fact that I enjoy this. (Oh and apparently, the fact that I tumbl is a massive factor in my hipster-label.)
It's true that I like weird music, though, Tumblr, I'm sure none of it is foreign to you. My favorite movie is unheard of by many people. Most of my clothes come from Buffalo Exchange or the clearance racks at Anthropologie and Urban Outfitters. I am socially liberal. My biggest collection of anything is of beautiful leather bound books that I pride myself on. And I am not a fan of the E-Readers. Honestly, that is really just what I like and am interested in and how I view the world. What is not genuine is the way I've started to wear my differences like an advertisement, the way I've begun to broadcast my "uniqueness" as though it were something special. Newsflash to self: this is not the case. There are hundreds of people that have similar interests and similar tastes, and a girl who enjoys Hollister and Seventeen Magazine is just as unique in her own ways as I am in mine.
   Basically what I am saying here is that I need to stop talking and start doing. I need to stop boasting and start enjoying. I need to stop gallivanting around and start actually living. These are my interests and things I enjoy, so I need to let myself enjoy them and stop giving a damn how "interesting" anyone finds me. The moment I stop mucking about, worrying about being "important", and start actually living my life and taking advantage of everything-- that's when my life will actually have something of interest.

sincerely, sarah

*Leaving

2011-07-04T21:42:00.001-05:00

Leaving. A word so solid. A word so final. It's a concluding word. Few stories begin with the word "leaving," and even fewer begin with the act of it. The act of leaving is much like the word-- it is solid, it is final.

The last day of high school, she slowly removed her things from her locker. For the first few moments, she carefully considered each object. She flipped through binders, pondering each piece of paper before discarding it, contemplating the possibility of its use in the future. But suddenly it was too much. She gathered the locker's contents in their entirety and dumped them on the trash bin. Because the thing about leaving is that it doesn't leave much time for looking back.

Leaving does nt allow time for regrets or second thoughts. Leaving does not wait around for nostalgia or walks down memory lane. Leaving takes off. It flies away, going the distance without a single glance back.

The day she left for university, she took a look around her nearly barren room. She found herself looking at each of the pictures still hanging on the wall. She caught herself walking over to the drawer full of memories and letters that had lined her years. As her hand reached out for the knob of the dresser, she drew in a breath and pulled back. With that, she walked away. She walked out the door, got into her car, turned the key in the ignition, and focused her eyes forward. Because the thing about leaving is that it has to keep moving forward.

Leaving cannot glance back, because if it does, it may second-guess. Leaving cannot stop to ponder, because if it does, those thoughts may tie it down. Leaving must move forward, because if it stops, it may never start again.

The day she graduated university, she loaded her car and hit the road almost immediately. By this point, she knew how leaving worked. She said her goodbyes, she collected her belongings, and she did not look back. She did not stop to think. She did not stop to question. She knew the plan, she knew the drill, and so with her few worldly possessions, she left took off for the opposite side of the country. She left for a new horizon and she left as fast as she could. Because the thing about leaving is that you cannot give it time to fear.

Leaving cannot be given room to breathe, because if it does breathe, fear will grip its lungs and take control of its heart. Leaving requires the bravery and courage that can take a lifetime to collect and a moment to lose. Leaving is complete. There are no blurred lines or bridges left to burn.

She arrived at the coast just before dawn. She pulled her car into an abandoned parking lot, and stepped outside. She crossed the lot slowly until her toes met the sand. She sank to the ground, breathing in the cool Carolina air, and watching as the sun began to creep into the sky, creating a horizon line where only blackness had been before. This was the moment for her, the moment when she truly left. As she watched the horizon form, she felt the parallel between that sunrise and her life. A new day had dawned for her, and there was no going back. Because the thing about leaving is that once you've left, you cannot return.

Leaving is liberating, and once you have been set free, you do not return to your captor. You can visit the past, but you cannot be once more a part of it, because leaving creates the dividing line: the horizon between night and day, between then and now. Once you have left you cannot return, because once you have left, you have no reason to go back.

Most stories do not begin with "leaving," but just this once, we'll say that she was already gone. Most stories do not begin with an end, but her story began with gone and ended with an arrival, because once she had arrived, the last page of her past was turned, the book was closed, and a new one began.

sincerely, sarah

*Where I Would Like To Be

2011-07-04T16:49:00.001-05:00

So I'm doing this "Writing Challenge" and this is the first prompt. The issue is that there are so many places I would like to be. So here goes:

Out. I would like to be out. Out of Dallas. Out of Texas. Out of the Midwest in general. Don't get me wrong, I am looking forward to UNT, but at the same time, there is a part of me that hates the fact that I am stuck here for four more years. Why? Because I am scared. I am so scared that I will get stuck here, and if we are being so blatantly honest, there is nothing for me here. My parents are here, but there is a very good chance they will be moving within the year. I have cheap tuition at school right now, but if my parents do move, there is a good chance I will lose in-state tuition. I have a few really good friends, but come August, most of them will scatter. But really, friends, family, relatively cheap college. That is it.
I hate the heat. I want snow. I want cold. I want seasons. To quote my mother, "In Texas, we have two seasons: hot and damn hot." Accurate. I don't like country music, AT ALL. My world does not revolve around sports. I feel like the only person in Texas who doesn't care about the Cowboys or the Rangers or the Mavs (braces self for hate comments). I am not Protestant. I am not Conservative. I am not close-minded. I have no state pride. I think it is absurd that Texas has a pledge to its own flag, that the Texas flag flies at the same height even. It was a country. It is not a country any more. I will never understand this. I want to be able to roadtrip. I want to get in the car and drive. But if I do that here, where do I end up? Hours in any direction will get me to...Lubbock, Austin, San Antonio, College Station. I am surrounded by Texas. I have friends in the Northeast and they can take all sorts of impromptu trips. Hop on the train and end up in NYC. Drive a few hours and end up in Chicago, or Boston, or Baltimore. I have friends on the West Coast. Roadtrips include destinations like San Francisco, Santa Monica, LA, Fresno, San Diego, even Seattle. I want big cities and excitement. I want people who care more about the arts than sports. I want out.
I would rather live in a tiny, run down shack of an apartment in Chicago than the biggest mansion in Texas. I want to spend all of my money on terrible seats to musicals and have to live off the money left over. I want to be young and reckless and brave. I want so badly to make it out of this place, but I am so, so scared that I never will. I'm scared that I will make connections here. That I will tie myself down here. That someday this will make the most "sense".
I want to run. I want to be irrational, just for a moment. But I know me. I know me all too well. I spend my whole life preparing for my future. My whole life is preparing for the future. I went to high school to prepare for college, I'm going to college to prepare for law school, I'm going to law school to prepare for the bar exam, I'm taking the bar exam to prepare for a stable career, I'm getting a stable career so one day I can afford to have a family, and then I will get married and save up to have kids, I will spend my life then preparing for my kids' futures. I am so freaking predictable. I will forever be doing what makes the most sense. So really, all I can do is hope to make it out. To hope and pray that I don't end up here forever, stuck and tied down.

sincerely, sarah

The Wisdom of Father Alfonse

2011-07-03T20:26:00.000-05:00

Serious regrets about not recording the homily at Mass tonight.

"Rational men become lunatics. They have an answer for everything. Just look at the most rational, logical philosopher in the world: Nietzsche. Died in an insane asylum."

"As Christians, we are called to be irrational, and the three most irrational things there are are: to believe in what we cannot prove, to hope when everything is going wrong, and to love the unlovable. Faith, hope, and love. THAT is irrational."

"Kids go to school every day, and every day science tries to teach them that we are all just animals. But you don't fall in love with a homo sapien. You hook up with a homo sapien. You marry a human being."

"Being a Christian is the most irrational choice you can make. Choosing to be a Christian means that you are choosing to love others no matter what, that you will forgive even when you have no desire to, that you will smile even when it's not easy. Because it is rational to love your best friend, and it is rational to forgive the little things, and it is rational to smile when you are happy. But it is entirely irrational to love the one who betrayed you, to forgive even as you are being nailed to a cross, to smile even when you are being crucified upside down."

"Science will tell you that a tree is just a tree, but in poetry a tree can be a monster with many arms and one leg. Science will tell you that a human is just an animal, but in music a human can be a firework. And that's just it. Science is logical. Science is rational. But we love to dance, and sing, and write poetry, and read literature-- and all of that is irrational, and all of that is what makes us human."

"The rational beings in this world will never forgive and they will never forget. THAT is rational. Forgiveness. Forgiving someone when they have hurt you and loving them despite it-- that's irrational."

SO MUCH WISDOM.
I love you, Papa Al!

sincerely, sarah

*Every Night.

2011-06-29T01:37:00.001-05:00

It's 1:14am. And I am still awake. I have no real reason to be. I am not doing anything productive. I'm not really doing anything at all. I hate this time, because this is the time that I always feel like being most productive, but I can't. It's this window of time between midnight and sleep that I always feel the most inspired, that I feel the most in general. It's like at midnight, someone flips a switch in my head that lets all the walls down. (Yeah, Cathy, why didn't we ever film scenes at one am, huh? My acting would've been ACE then.) For instance, I just listened to "Forever and Always" by Parachute and had a nice cry over it. This isn't something I do in the daylight ~~unless I have watched Moulin Rouge recently~~. Artistically, this should be my moment to shine. But the writers' block remains. I'm a writer without a cause. I don't know where to start or what topic to cover. It's like I have all of this passion brimming over inside of me but no where to direct it. I swear to you, in moments like these, I could write the most beautiful love letter you've ever read to someone who doesn't even exist.
*le sigh* Writer without a cause.

sincerely, sarah

*One of My Most Important Possessions

2011-06-28T03:24:00.001-05:00

I am writing this because I thought I had lost it tonight, and it was a terrible, terrible moment. You know that feeling, when you've lost something really valuable to you. That feeling when your heart drops to your stomach? That was an hour of my tonight.
One of my most important possessions is an envelope. In this envelope there are a few papers. None of this is the important part. What is so valuable is what is on these papers. In this envelope, there are four letters that mean the world to me.

The first letter was given to me by my first love, of sorts. Most importantly, he was my best friend in a really hard time. The letter was folded inside the CD he gave me for my 14th birthday. This boy was in my life through the really, really dark times and we helped each other out of it. This time that he was a part of is one that few of my friends now even know about. This letter means the world to me, because my relationship with this boy, the very things he talks about in the letter, were a huge part in shaping the person I am today.

The second letter is from my best friend since age four. It was my going away letter that she gave me just before I moved. It pays tribute to our, at that point, nine years of friendship, and in it, there is the promise of forever. Though we have not been very close through high school, this letter is so valuable to me. To me, this letter still holds the promise of forever.

The third letter was given to me by a close friend just before he left for college last year. My friendship with him has certainly seen its ups and downs. Things have not turned out as this letter seemed to promise, but it still means the world to me. It still makes me cry. I still love him fiercely. We don't have a lot of common ground right now, which has proved to be a strain on our friendship. But I truly hope we find a way through, because I still value his friendship. And I hope he knows that...

The fourth letter is from my "little sister," and more technically speaking, one of my best friends. This letter was written to me on the day of Shattered Dreams. The day that I "died." She wrote it right after she read my obituary. This letter has the capacity to break my heart and make it whole again, all at the same time. I truly, truly hope she knows how important she is to me. If I ever need reminding of who I am or what purpose I serve, this letter is and always will be my reminder.

When I thought I had lost these letters tonight, my heart physically hurt. These letters mean so very much to me. I need them to remind me where I come from, where I've been, what's important, and who I am.

JB, AL, KW, LP. You have all left your mark. These letters mean everything to me. Thank you.

sincerely, sarah

*Pro Equality.

2011-06-25T23:48:00.002-05:00

Growing up, I had a best friend who lived four houses down from me. I met her when we were four years old because her mom and dad had divorced when she was very very young and her dad moved in with his same-sex partner. I spent as much time growing up in their house as in my own. There is no doubt in my mind that those two men love each other, but that’s not relevant to the legality or logistics is question here.

When we were 8 years old, my friend admitted to me that her step-father was sexually abusing her. After all the court cases and all of the insanity that came from this, her mother is still married to this man. Now I grew up with her father and his partner, and I will attest any day to the fact that they are the most loving and caring parents anyone could ever ask for. And yet, the government will allow her mother to remain married to the man who molested her little girl, but will not allow her father the same legal rights with the man he has been with for 16 years.

I recognize that that is a bit of an uncommon circumstance, but outside of personal situations, it comes down to a few logistics for me. For starters, I have read the bill that passed tonight and done a lot of research into this and the bill that came into the senate in 2009, and (to quote Senator Grisanti, a Catholic NY senator) “I cannot legally come up with an argument against same-sex marriage.” This bill allows religious institutions the right to not recognize/perform same-sex marriages; therefore, it does not interfere with the church.

I do understand qualms with sharing the title of “marriage,” because I agree that marriage is a very special thing between a man and a woman and that’s how it was created, but to me, it ultimately comes down to rights. Homosexuality is viewed as a sin, but I, too, live in sin every day and no one is going to deny me basic human rights because of the poor choices I make. If something happened to my friend’s dad, I want his partner to be able to get information, to be able to be in the room with him. If something more serious happens to them, I don’t want the one of them to end up financially strained because they cannot share insurance policies. And they raised my friend well, despite all of the grotesque circumstance her mother’s house imposed on her, so if they wanted to adopt, I see nothing wrong with that. There are thousands of kids that need homes, and if two loving people are willing to raise them, I am all for that.

All in all, I don’t think the government has the right to control this. Religion? yes. One’s own morality? yes. But not the government. Say I met a man at Tom Thumb tomorrow. Assuming that we are both of legal age, he and I could head on down to city hall in Dallas and get ourselves a marriage license within the next week. No one would question the depth or validity of our relationship. I would have met this man minutes before, but we would easily and freely be handed the rights that people who have been together for decades may never see.

And with everything the government has to handle right now? This really shouldn’t be on their agenda. Let the church and the people deal with marriage. Let the government deal with the deficit, poverty, starvation, murder, crimes, war, etc.

Sorry this is so long. And if I said ANYTHING offensive in any way, I did not mean to. If you have any questions, let me know. I could talk about this forever. (Believe me, if you are Catholic and pro-gay rights, you have to be well-versed in this stuff.) I really want to know your thoughts.

Sincerely, Sarah

summer

2011-06-14T13:18:00.000-05:00

So, I guess I skipped the "obligatory" graduation post... oops? I don't know. I guess I still haven't really processed it. Maybe I never will. Who knows?

But at any rate, this summer is full of awesome and musicals ~~(read- more awesome!)~~. This summer I am doing a lot of things:

learning guitar
perfecting my Spanish
working pretty much every day
starting Italian
going to see Spamalot and Guys and Dolls
watching a bazillion musicals (movie musicals)
writing a musical with Harry Potter
confusing people by talking about the things I do with Harry Potter
hanging out at the Dallas Comedy House
exercising
cleaning (a lot)
planning for the next year
and stuff

writing this got boring about halfway through. I guess I'll be back here when my writers' block leaves.

sincerely, sarah

*I am Unconvincing.

2011-06-03T19:01:00.001-05:00

I am utterly unconvincing.

And I suppose that is normal, but it is not easy to accept. I have several friends who-- for a long time-- I believed that I was a good influence on. I wanted to be at least. But ultimately that doesn't seem to mean much.

I am good with words, but I am utterly unable to convince someone not to drink 24/7, not to do drugs, not to steal, not to drink and drive, not to lie, not to sleep around, not to cheat. I am good with words, but to these people in these situations, my words mean nothing. I can tell them it will be worse in the long run, but our society has brought this generation up to believe firmly in instant gratification over whatever is ultimately better for you.

There is only one thing I have ever been good at talking anyone out of: suicide. The only thing I have ever been able to convince anyone not to do is kill themselves. For a long time, I wondered why this was, why I couldn't talk anyone out of something little and dumb, but I could talk someone out of something so grave and important. And maybe that's part of it. Maybe the scale isn't weighed the same. I think a lot of it comes from the fact that teenagers are generally looking for reasons to do stupid stuff, but when it comes to suicide they're looking for reasons not to.

Only one part of this "convincing" ability falls to me: love. I can give someone a million reasons why drugs are bad for you or why stealing is wrong, but if they have already made up their mind, no reason will come in to play. With someone who is suicidal, you can tell them a million reasons not to kill themselves, but reason has no stance in the matter. However, the only thing you have to do to change someone's mind in this matter is to show them that they are loved. A million and one reasons will not make a difference, but if you can show them they are loved it will make all the difference in the world. My way with words has nothing to do with it.

When it comes down to it, all I really know how to do is write and love people. I have an immense capacity to love people, and that is the only thing that really matters in my life. I can get good grades, I can get a good job, I can write nice notes and stories and poems, but none of that will do anything to make a difference in the world-- at least not without love. Love is the bottom line, and in any situation I come upon, it is what will make the difference.

sincerely, sarah

**Because I love you the way you are

2011-06-02T00:06:00.002-05:00

This is an edited version of something I posted about a year ago.

Dear You,

If only you could see yourself how I see you, how the world sees you. If only you could see the depths of how much you are loved, of how important you are. You may not think of yourself as important or influential, but day by day, there you are, making your mark on this world. You have impacted lives just by being in them. You have impacted this world just by living in it. You are like no one else in this entire universe. I have never met, and I never will meet, anyone exactly like you. Each and every person in this world is different, thus, every individual serves a different purpose. This world is like one giant puzzle; without you a piece would be missing. Without you the world would be incomplete. So believe me when I say, you are important to this world.

Remember when I said you are loved? I meant it. I cannot write you a list of each person that loves you, or judge the depth or validity of anyone's love for you, but I can tell you this: I love you, and I am not the only one. If you died today, people would care; their lives would change because you were no longer there. There are people in this world who are happy simply because you exist. Don't you ever even consider taking that away from them- away from us. You are who you are, and those in your life are who they are partly because of that- because each and every person who has come into our lives has shaped us in some way, and you are no exception to that. I love your existence.

You are loved. And I know that that doesn't always feel like enough to carry you, but sometimes you have to let it. No matter what is going on in your life or in the world, no matter how you feel or what's going on in your mind- you have to know and you have to let that be enough. You have to let that knowledge fill you up just enough to carry you through. Because love isn't always something you can feel... But it's there. Always.

There are people in this world who are going to try and use who you are as ammunition against you. Do not let them. Own who you are. I know these things are so easy to say and so hard to do, but I need you to try, because those people judging? They don't understand. They will never understand. You have so much going for you and because of that, there will always be jerks that want to try and take a little piece of that away from you, who want to knock you down and watch you crumble. But they don't matter. They haven't walked in your shoes. They don't know what it's like to be you.

You're not perfect, and I don't expect you to be. I want you to try, of course. I want you to strive to be the best that you can. I want you to reach for happiness with everything that's in you, but I know you cannot always succeed. I know that sometimes you will stumble and I know that sometimes you will fall. But all I'm asking is that you get back up. Don't ever let your mistakes make you feel helpless and don't ever let your struggles detract from your self-worth. Love works without conditions, without barriers or limitations or judgements. I know you won't always make the right choices, but you will always be loved in spite of that.

Things in this life aren't always going to turn out the way we expect. Our bad choices make way for things to go wrong. Sometimes things will go wrong no matter what we choose. So stop hiding from life and live it. There will always be corners and pages to turn and we won't always know what to expect from them. But you have to learn to take these turns and changes in stride. You have to learn from them what you can without letting them get you down. And when you do get knocked down, you need to learn how to pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and keep walking. Somehow, someway, you need to learn to find beauty in all of this. From the love you know you hold to the stories you acquire as you face life, you need to see the beauty each moment has in store. Remember that you are never alone. When you've had better days, when life seems to have dealt you its worst, remember you are loved. So chin up, beauty is everywhere.

Sincerely,
Me

*I got inked...

2011-06-01T01:01:00.001-05:00

So, reader, this is permanently on my skin :)

First of all, yes, I am only 18. I am young. My life will change. Etc. Etc. But I did not just jump into this. I have spent two years planning this. I made sure it would not be something that I would ever, ever regret. It is able to be hidden if I really need to. It is not obtrusive or offensive or something about which my mind could change.

On the subject of it:

To me, courage is the most important thing in the world. After being bullied, dealing with depression, converting to Catholicism, etc, courage has proved to be extraordinarily important in my life. The original inspiration for this came from Screwtape Letters by CS Lewis:

This, indeed, is probably one of the Enemy's motives for creating a dangerous world--a world in which moral issues really come to the point. He sees as well as you do that courage is not simply one of the virtues, but the form of every virtue at the testing point, which means, at the point of highest reality. A chastity or honesty, or mercy, which yields to danger will be chaste or honest or merciful only on conditions. Pilate was merciful till it became risky.

So, reader, any thoughts, questions, comments, or criticisms?

sincerely, sarah

PS- I heal like a boss. I just got this done today and it is not even red.

Rapture Day

2011-05-22T11:38:00.000-05:00

So, since I didn't die yesterday, I figured I'd share with the interweb what I did on my "last day on earth."

For starters, I slept in really late, because if you are going to have to battle zombies, you want to be well-rested. When I finally got out of bed, I ate a hearty breakfast of donuts, because if it's your last meal, calories don't matter. After I ate, I washed my face and brushed my teeth, because zombie fighters always look fresh in the movies...and those are obviously accurate. Afterwards, I spent a substantial amount of time organizing my iTunes account, because if you are going to fight zombies, you need a killer playlist to set the background. From this, I left for dinner with my mom and her friend, because they seemed like pretty solid zombie fighting companions to stick with, and, as the time was drawing nearer, we needed to be well-nourished. After dinner, 6pm passed, and since we had survived, we decided to go party at the end of the world with Jimmy Buffett, which was also a good precautionary measure in case the zombies were just late, because there are plenty of drunk people that I could surely outrun in Margaritaville. I got offered a beer by a couple of middle-aged men throughout the night, but as I was still trying to maintain my zombie-ready A-game, I politely declined and ran in the other direction.

All in all, disappointed in the lack of zombies, but glad the fire and brimstone was not upon us yesterday.

sincerely, sarah

Currently Listening: "Cough Syrup" ~Young the Giant
Currently Reading: The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
Currently Watching: Doctor Who
Currently Procrastinating: cleaning/thank you letters
Days til DH2: 54
Days til graduation: 14

*I believe in a lot of things

2011-05-21T14:12:00.001-05:00

I believe in God.
I believe in the importance of every single human being.
I believe in hope, because without it, what do we have?
I believe in courage, because without it, I wouldn't still be here.
I believe in setting the world on fire with nothing but a spark.
I believe in the power of one person to make a difference, even if that makes me an optimist, or a dreamer.
I believe in dreams, and more importantly, in dreamers.
I believe in the importance of family, even if it doesn't come in the most traditional way.
I believe in change, because everything is always changing.
I believe in the power of words.
I believe in that when times are hard, things could always be worse, and things will always get better.
I believe in friendship, and in bonds that can tie one soul to another for eternity.
I believe in eternity, because I know that there is so much outside of this life and this world.
I believe in the power of music to inspire, to encourage, to comfort, and to unify.
I believe in myself.
I believe in you.
I believe in a lot of things, but most importantly, I believe in this: in the beauty of love, even when it's hard-- especially when it's hard.

sincerely, sarah

Currently Listening: "What I Know" ~Parachute
Currently Reading: The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
Currently Watching: Doctor Who
Currently Procrastinating: cleaning/thank you letters
Days til DH2: 55
Days til graduation: 15

Seniority...

2011-05-20T17:47:00.000-05:00

We had our Senior Baccalaureate Mass/dinner on Sunday.

My Tulsa friends graduated a couple nights ago.

We turned in our textbooks yesterday.

We got our yearbooks this morning.

I met with my UNT Honors Advisor this afternoon.

How is it still not sinking in that I graduate in two weeks?

sincerely, sarah

*Bullying

2011-05-19T01:00:00.002-05:00

So this is me. And this is my story. But ultimately, I just want to help you.

sincerely, sarah

Monologues I love

2011-05-17T22:19:00.000-05:00

I'll be coming back to this post and inputting more after my Spanish exam tomorrow:

(from Glee)
I miss my sister. Every night at ten— or so— she used to call me on the phone. And, when I asked her why, she told me her body told her…she wanted to hear my voice. I miss my sister. The smell of her shampoo. The way she could always convince me to read her another book. When you love someone like I loved her, they’re apart of you. It’s like you’re attached by this invisible tether and no matter how far away you are, you can always feel them. And now, every time I reach for that tether, I know there’s no one on the other end and I feel like I’m falling into nothingness. Then I remember Jean. I remember a life lead with no enemies, no resentments, no regrets, and I am inspired— to get up out of bed and go on. I miss my sister so much. It feels like a piece of me has been ripped off. Just one more time, I want to hold her. Ten more seconds. Is that too much to ask? For ten more seconds to hold her? But I can’t. And I won’t. And the only thing keeping me from being swallowed by sadness is that Jean would kill me if I did. So for now, I’m just gonna miss her. I love you, Jeannie. Rest in peace.

(from Rabbit Hole)
I don’t know… the weight of it, I guess. At some point, it becomes bearable. It turns into something that you can crawl out from under and carry around like a brick in your pocket. And you even forget it, for a while. But then you reach in for whatever reason and there it is. Oh right, that. Which could be awful. Not all the time. It’s kinda… not that you’d like it exactly, but it’s what you’ve got instead of your son. So, you carry it
around. And it doesn’t go away. Which is… fine, actually.

(from Rabbit Hole)

So, I don’t see any photos anywhere. The one in the article was nice. Him at the

beach. I used to have a shirt just like that one. The one he’s wearing in the picture. (Beat)

I might’ve been going too fast. That day. I’m not sure, but I might’ve been. So… that’s

one of the things I wanted to tell you. (Beat) It’s a thirty zone. And I might’ve been going

thirty-three. Or thirty-two. I would usually look down, to check, and if I was a little over,

then I’d slow down obviously. But I don’t remember checking on your block, so it’s

possible I was going a little too fast. And then the dog came out, really quick, and so I

swerved a little to avoid him, not knowing, obviously… (Beat) So that’s something I

thought you should know. I might’ve been going a little over the limit. I can’t be positive

either way though

(from Rabbit Hole)

JASON. Dear Mr. and Mrs. Corbett, I wanted to send you my condolences on the death of your son Danny. I know it’s been eight months since the accident, but I’m sure it’s probably still hard for you to be reminded of that day. I think about what happened a lot, as I’m sure you do too. I’ve been having some troubles at home, and at school, and a couple people here thought it might be a good idea to write to you. I’m sorry if this letter upsets you. That’s obviously not my intention. Even though I never knew Danny, I did read the article in the town paper, and was happy to learn a little bit about him. He sounds like he was a great
kid. I’m sure you miss him a lot, as you said in the article. I especially liked the part where Mr. Corbett talked about Danny’s robots, because when I was his age I was a big fan of robots too. In fact I still am, in some ways (ha ha). I’ve enclosed a short story that’s going to be printed in my high school lit
magazine. I don’t know of you like science fiction or not, but I’ve enclosed it anyway. I was hoping to dedicate the story to Danny’s memory. There aren’t any robots in this one, but I think it would be the kind of story he’s like if he were my age. Would it bother you if I dedicated the story? If so, please let me know. The printer deadline for the magazine is March 31stIf you tell me before then, I can have them take it off.
I know this probably doesn’t make things any better, but I wanted you to know how terrible I feel about Danny. I know that no matter how hard this has been on me, I can never understand the depth of your loss. My mom has only told me that about a hundred times (ha ha). I of course wanted to say how sorry I am that things happened the way they did, and that I wish I had driven down a different block that day. I’m sure you do too. Anyway, that’s it for now. If you’d like to let me know about the dedication, you can email me at the address above. If I don’t hear from you, I’ll assume it’s okay. Sincerely, Jason Willette.

(from Atonement)
It's my last novel. I’m dying. My doctor tells me I have something called vascular dementia, which is essentially a series of tiny strokes. Your brain closes down, gradually. You lose words, you lose your memory, which for a writer is pretty much the point. So that’s why I could finally write the book, I think. I had to. And why of course it is my last novel. Strangely enough, it would be just as accurate to call it my first novel. I wrote several drafts as far back as my time at St. Thomas’ hospital during the war. Just couldn’t ever find the way to do it.. I had for a very long time decided to tell the absolute truth. No rhymes, no embellishments. And I think—you’ve read the book, you’ll understand why. I got firsthand accounts of all the events I didn’t personally witness: the conditions in prison, the evacuation to Dunkirk, everything. But the effect of all this honesty was rather pitiless, you see. I couldn’t any longer imagine what purpose would be served by it.. By honesty…or reality. Because, in fact, I was too much of a coward to go and see my sister in June, 1940. I never made that journey to Balham. So the scene in which I confess to them is imagined…invented. Any of that could never have happened, because—Robbie Turner died of septicemia at Bray dunes on June 1st 1940, the last day of the evacuation. And I was never able to put things right with my sister, Cecilia, because she was killed on the 15th of October, 1940, by the bomb that destroyed the gas and water mains of Balham tube station. So, my sister and Robbie were never able to have the time together they both so longed for, and deserved. And which ever since, I’ve…ever since I’ve always felt I prevented. But, what sense of hope or satisfaction could a reader derive from an ending like that? So in the book I wanted to give Robbie and Cecilia what they lost out on in life. I’d like to think this isn’t weakness or evasion. But a final act of kindness I gave them: their happiness.

(from Blair Witch Project)
I just want to apologize to Mike's mom and Josh's mom and my mom and I'm sorry to everyone. I was very naive. (looks away from camera, scared) I was very naive and very stupid and I shouldn't have put other people in danger for something that was all about me and my selfish motives. I'm so sorry for everything that has happened because in spite of what Mike says now it is my fault. Because it was my project and I insisted on everything. I insisted we weren't lost. I insisted we keep going. I insisted we walk south. Everything had to be my way and this is where we've ended up. And it's all because of me we're here now hungry and cold and hunted. I love you mom and dad. I am so sorry. It was never my intention to hurt any one and I hope that's clear. (begins to hyperventilate) I am so scared. What was that? I'm scared to close my eyes and I'm scared to open them. I'm going to die out here. Every night we just wait for them to come. (breaks down and sobs)

(from Stardust)
You know when I said I knew little about love? That wasn’t true. I know a lot about love. I’ve seen it, centuries and centuries of it, and it was the only thing that made watching your world bearable. All those wars... pain, lies, hate... It made me want to turn away and never look down again. But when I see the way that mankind loves... You could search to the furthest reaches of the universe and never find anything more beautiful. So yes, I know that love is unconditional. But I also know that it can be unpredictable, unexpected, uncontrollable, unbearable and strangely easy to mistake for loathing, and... What I’m trying to say, Tristan is...I think I love you. Is this love, Tristan? I never imagined I'd know it for myself. My heart... It feels like my chest can barely contain it. Like it’s trying to escape because it doesn't belong to me any more. It belongs to you. And if you wanted it, I’d wish for nothing in exchange...no gifts. No goods. No demonstrations of devotion. Nothing but knowing you loved me too. Just your heart, in exchange for mine.

(from Almost, Maine)

There’s something you should know: I’m here to pay my respects. To my husband. Yeah: My husband. Wes. I just wanted to say goodbye to him, ‘cause he died recently. On Tuesday actually. And, see, the northern lights—did you know this?—the northern lights are really the torches that the recently departed carry with them so they can find their way to heaven, and, see, it takes three days for a soul to make its way home, to heaven, and this is Friday! This is the third day, so, you see, I will see them, the northern lights, because they’re him: He’ll be carrying one of the torches. And, see, I didn’t leave things well with him, so I was just hoping I could come here and say goodbye to him and not be bothered, but what you did there just as second ago, that bothered me, I think, and I’m not here for that, so maybe I should go find another yard…

(from Almost, Maine)

I took a taxi here. From Bangor. To see him. This place is a little further away from things than I remember. I could only fly as close as Bangor and I needed to get to him as fast as I could. Because I want to answer a question he asked me. The last time I saw him, he asked me a very important question and I didn’t answer it, and that’s just not a very nice thing to do to a person. He asked me to marry him. And that’s why I’m here. To answer him. (Beat. Then, realizing she probably ought to defend herself.) I mean, I didn’t answer him in the first place because I didn’t have an answer at the time. I mean, I was going to college, and then… the night before I’m about to go off into the world to do what I hope and dream, he asks me, “Will you marry me?” I mean, come on! I was leaving in the morning… What was I supposed to do? (Defending herself.) I mean, I told him I’d have to think about it, that I’d think it over overnight and that I’d be back before the sun came up with an answer. And then I left. Left him standing right… there…and then… I didn’t make it back with an answer before the sun came up or… at all. No! That wasn’t my answer! I just… went off into the world, and that’s not an answer, and I think-… (little beat) I think he thought I’d say, “Yes.” I know, and… I’m afraid he probably waited up all night, hoping for me to come by, and I just want to tell him that I know now that you just can’t do a thing like not answer a question like the one he asked me, you can’t do that to a person. Especially to someone you love.

(from Ghost of the Tree)
Here I sit in my backyard, in the shade of my tree, my big old oak tree. Here I write stories, stories about animals, about places, about places I have never been, about dreams, about this tree.We have this big hole in my backyard. I don’t know why. I don’t know why it’s here. I get stoned sometimes and sit in the hole, hide in the hole,
To tree
and watch the children playing in my tree fort. I love children. They are so innocent.They have the whole world ahead of them. I am going to have a hundred of them, a hundred children just like that big oak.
To audience
hundreds of little saplings that will grow up strong and pure with respect for all races, all people, and I pray my child is stronger than me. Perhaps she can go to Africa instead of just dreaming about it, or maybe to South America as a missionary to help those less fortunate. I will call my child Rainbow, because I think the rainbow is the most beautiful of God’s gifts, like Gods’ angels lighting up the sky after a storm, and it shows how different colours can live together, in harmony, in peace. Like there’s this guy; Desmond. We’re really into each other. We’re gonna go down to Africa, and help the starving, the poor people of the earth. I mean, we have so much, and they have so little. Save the wildlife too, cause lions and elephants and hippos, they’re vanishing, and I want to do
something about it. I know I have something important to say because I believe in stuff, like women’s rights, and gay rights, animals, the Vietnamese. Everybody. I believe in everybody. And I’m against stuff, too, like the war. Like killing is wrong.
To audience
My mom tried to kill herself. She did. And now her brain is fried…empty. Nobody home...and I don’t want to talk about her. My dad, I don’t want to talk about him either. My dad has a girlfriend. She’s his secretary, and I hate her with all my heart. And she stays at the house, too. How could he do that to my mom? What’s wrong with him?
Looks up at tree
When I was little, me and my brother built this tree fort beside the house, and it would be our safe place, our castle in the sky...and we could see into the back bedroom, see my mom sitting there like a zombie, staring out the window. Staring at nothing,
To audience
or maybe she’s like God, and can see everything, see what a mess I’m making of my life. I cried when my cat Sparkles died. I don’t cry about my mom. I’m too depressed to cry about my mom. She never even got to do anything in her life. My mom thought I would be the perfect little Suburban angel, the light in the dark world. But I’m not. I’m nothing.
Here I sit in this big hole in the backyard. Hide in the hole…get stoned.
Here’s a picture of my mom. It’s my favourite. This picture I like because she’s laughing.
I never saw my mom laugh before.

(from Renascence)
"Listen can I tell you something? And will you promise not to tell anyone? Well the strangest thing happened to me today. Today! I don't know what to do! I didn't know what to do! I still don't! Dennis took me up to his room. I mean he lives above the garage at his parents house by himself with his own private entrance and a bathroom and everything. He asked me to come over while we were watching the marching band practice at the football stadium to see his newspaper clippings. And I mean I was in his room. We walked in and he kicked this pair of underwear under the bed and walked over to grab a kleenex just like he probably does when I'm not there! And there were these weights there. Like weightlifting weights. And there was a calender and shoes. Oh and then he sat down. He threw a pair of pants of a chair onto his bed and sat down. A pair of pants! And then I had to go to the bathroom. So I went to the bathroom and when I walked in there was a razor on the sink. With a blade in it and everything I checked. And there was this washcloth that was still damp. And there was a towel hung over the shower that was dark and wrinkled in the middle like he dried off with it sometime. And then I turned around. I turned around and the sit down part of the toilet seat was up! I asked him to take me home. Right then right away. So he did. I feel bad though. But it wasn't my fault! I was scared I mean all jumpy inside, I can't describe it. Was it terrible of me to ask to go home? Do you think I
hurt his feelings? What do you think?"'

<3

A fin de cuento...

2011-05-17T18:02:00.000-05:00

Manana es el dia ultimo de mi clase de Espanol BI. Tecnicamente, tengo tres semanas mas, pero manana son los dos examenes. Por eso, pense que seria una buena idea a escribir un "blog" en espanol. Lo siento por la falta de los acentos, pero no quiero hacer la fuerza a poner aqui.

aslkgjafdhfljkg Estoy aqui, pero no puedo pensar en que escribir. No tengo pensamientos logicos ahora. Hay mucho que necesito hacer, pero no quiero hacer nada. No quiero limpiar o trabajar o ir a la tienda o hacer ejercicio. Solo quiero dormir y ver la television y leer y navegar por la red.

No quiero escribir, y por eso, acabo de crear playlists para mis canciones de otras linguas (espanol, francais, italiano). Estoy muy productiva. Mis gafas de sol favoritas rompio hoy. :( Quiero mas, pero pienso si pago para mas, solo se rompe a nuevo.

No puedo escribir mas. En el tiempo cuando esta ventana fue abierto, pase muchas horas en tumblr, hable con mi padre, ve tres peliculas cuartas, hable con mi madre sobre universidad, y cree tres playlists en itunes. Si, soy productiva.

sinceramente, sarah

*So you hate the world?

2011-05-11T18:42:00.002-05:00

Don’t give up on it. Your hate for the world is because you see the flaws in it. So do something about them. If you give up on life, all you’re doing is leaving other people alone to deal with it.

You think the world is a lonely place? Do something about it. Be someone else’s friend. Be there for someone else who is lonely too.

You think the world is a sad place? Do something about it. Dedicate your time and effort to making just one person smile. Work on encouraging those around you who could really use it.

This world is full of people who are to focused on their own respective sadnesses to realize that they are not alone, that they have the power to make other people happy, that they have the power to be happy.

Don’t be that person. Open your eyes. Chin up. Look at those beautiful, sad faces around you, and don’t leave them that way. Don’t leave all the misery for someone else to deal with. You are so much more powerful than your sadness lets you see.

sincerely, sarah

*My Thoughts On Swearing

2011-05-10T23:30:00.001-05:00

I considered just posting this on my Tumblr, because I am not sure how people reading this will feel about it. But, blog, you and I have always been honest with each other, so here goes.

In my opinion, I do not see anything really wrong with swearing, in moderate amounts in appropriate settings. I do my best not to swear at work, at school, at church, in front of my mother, in front of children, in classy settings, in excess, in contexts where another word works just as well, in my writing. In many cases, I completely believe that there are better ways to phrase something. I see no reason to drop an F-bomb when "freaking" gets the same message across. In many instances, I find that people's use of vulgarities do nothing but show the fact that they do not have a good enough vocabulary to use a different word. However, there are times when that another word simply does not have the same affect, and there are times where there are more important things to worry about than trying to come up with a more appropriate word. When emotions are particularly strong, often an expletive is the best way to get the strength of that emotion across. When someone is really upset about something serious, I don't think they should have to waste effort trying to come up with a more proper term. When someone is passionate about something, sometimes that is the best way to phrase it. Like when I say that bullying is really, truly fucked up. Even putting that in print on here makes me a bit nervous. But I'm going to say it, because I believe it. Saying that it is terrible, or wrong, or bad, does not really tell you how I feel. That word does. So I say it, and I don't apologize for it, because it's just the way it is.

sincerely, sarah

Currently Listening: "Mad Tom of Bedlam" by Charlene Kaye
Currently Reading: An Abundance of Katherines by John Green
Currently Watching: Glee's prom episode
Currently Procrastinating: cleaning/sleep
Days til DH2: 65

I am a pro-procrastinator

2011-05-05T23:59:00.000-05:00

Two blogs in one day. When I swore I'd be off this thing until after tests. When I have three of the craziest tests of my life on monday. When I need to clean my room before I can go to bed tonight. When I should have been in bed already.
Oh well...

Right now I am just feeling an overwhelming amount of love for the people in my life right now. It's silly, and it's sort of lacking right now due to my isolated study cave, but even people I wouldn't consider myself to be extremely close to. I sit in IB classes each day and realizes how much we've all bonded. Some of us may irritate the living daylights out of each other, but at the root of it all, we don't really hate each other (for the most part), because we're this weird and twisted sort of family. We help each other learn. We help each other survive this crazy mess of a world we are living in right now. Honestly, we've helped each other grow as people. (Sorry, I realize that I am out cheesing Hallmark here, but it's true.)

Outside of IB, I am so so grateful to have some of the best friends in the world. Tonight, one of my best friends and I started plans to make a youtube channel together so that we can make frequent videos to keep in touch after we graduate. She also made me two really sweet videos (and told me very exciting news!!!!!). A different best friend (I am really not using this word loosely) texted me about how she was working on talking her sister out of joining the crowd and bullying this kid. Does anyone else ever have proud best friend moments? *wipes imaginary tears* And then there are two other friends who just keep me constantly laughing with their video making and their silliness and their antics. And then there's the friend that I love having heart to hearts with (especially over yogurt). In which I can tell her my crazy stories, and she can share her worries, and we both leave feeling slightly better. And then there's my future college buddy. And my summer buddy. I can't wait to get to know her more.

Who am I kidding? Katie, Alyssa, Linley, Ben, Amelia, Rachael... You guys know who you are. I think you're all awesome. Thanks for being awesome. And for being in my life.

sincerely, sarah

also, I miss this:
Currently Listening: "The Naming of Things" ~Andrew Bird
Currently Reading: The Anatomy of Motive by John Douglas
Currently Watching: The Mentalist
Currently Procrastinating: cleaning/sleep
Days til DH2: 70