Tuesday, January 22, 2013

Wanted a Cake; Got Some Brownies.

Life. The glorious thing we're all living right now. Whether we see it as an opportunity to strive for success or morn in our losses, we're living it right now. Most of us, including myself, we're living the "dream" because we're in college. 


College is the place where we discover who we are and who we set out to be. Now, I'll admit, most of us are the stage of still discovering who we are as individuals (mainly by experimenting with our free time, the people of whom we surround ourselves with and simply what we're studying). College; it's a tricky place. It's even more tricky if you've been so tunnel-visioned and goal oriented these past few years. I myself, am not an exception.

We all establish goals within a reasonable timeline that allows us to successfully accomplish said goals; it'd be more than bogus to simply say, "I want to graduate with 3 majors and a minor in 4 years" without any rational/logical planning--it's not something you just do. Plans have to be made to reach any goal that logically would take time. That being said,


 most of us come to college with an idea, or a "plan" of what 
we want to study and what we want to be 
when we "grow up".  




I remember when I was younger, my mother was attempting to show me how to bake (I say attempting because, even now, I promise I can't bake or cook to save my life). She handed me the recipe, and really just let me go at it. I've watched her bake cakes numerous times before; she was one of those mothers who made my birthday cake every year, decorated it, and pretty much the best baker ever.[ Yeah, go ahead and be jealous. ] So, as any 9 year old, I took this as a challenge.

I grabbed the eggs, the oil, the flower, the cocoa, a baking powder of some sort, some vanilla, and all the other goods, and went at it. Mixed the dry ingredients. Added the eggs, oil and vanilla. I was feeling mighty proud. By the time the batter was all nice and blended, I was then granted permission to pour it into a crayon shaped cake pan (as a kid, I thought these pans were magical). 

Now, we waited. I was looking forward to frosting this cake-- I mean, who doesn't like to secretly lick the spatula after baking a cake and frosting it?! After seemingly weeks of waiting, my creation had been complete. I heard that "tick tick tick tick DING". I was practically staring down the timer, waiting to be able to shout, "MOM!!! The cake is done!!" Being only 9 years old, mother had to take it out of the oven.

And so she did. And to my dismay, there wasn't a fluffy crayon-shaped chocolate cake. In front of my distressed, somber eyes laid a flat, broken-down and burnt looking cardboard catastrophe! I didn't quite understand why all of that hard work of taking on this challenge to bake this cake, had failed. My mother giggled as if it were alright and I was being my usual drama-queen 9-year old self...


"Brownies".

I kid you not. That's all it was. I had made BROWNIES. I wasn't mad. Brownies are still delicious. I ate them as quickly as I would have had eaten a cake. 

To this day, I'm not sure if I used the wrong baking  ingredient (baking powder vs baking soda) because I am not a professional (or amateur) in the kitchen, or if my mother simply gave me the wrong recipe or if I misinterpreted what I was actually going to be making. Regardless, I laugh back at this experience as if it were a simply childhood memory and realize, it's not just a memory.

I had set up this goal to bake this amazing chocolate cake; I was going to succeed by following a recipe. However, after all of the work of getting to the final product, I got something that I wasn't expecting. Even if I wasn't expecting the brownies, I came to grow quite fond of it after I realized that I enjoyed brownies after all.

Similarly, I remember this moment every time something doesn't go as planned. It may sound cliche, but even those exist for a purpose. Being in college, I've seen many of us struggle with this already in our first few years. Many of us change our majors. Many of us have learned that we can seemingly no longer be in the career field that we have always set out to be in. When we're disappointed, I highly suggest taking that time to yourself. Go out and discover new passions and try new things. If nothing of it works out for you, get back on the horse and try for that goal again.


When you're working towards a goal, and the outcome isn't what you had expected, simply adapt. Don't morn over what you could have had or what you've worked so hard to get; embrace what's in front of you. Sure, at first you'll be disappointed; but being able to adapt to it and make do with what you've got is what separates you from the rest. 


Just because you didn't get the cake right now, doesn't mean that the opportunity for baking a cake has left; what it means is that ice cream just so happens to taste a lot better with a brownie than a piece of frosted cake :) 








Monday, December 3, 2012

Dreams are just that: dreams.

Merriam Webster definitions of "dream"

1. a series of thoughts, images, or emotions occurring during sleep
2. a visionary creation of the imagination 
3. something notable for its beauty, excellence, or enjoyable quality
4. a strongly desired goal or purpose



My dreams? Well, they're just that. They weren't always just dreams; they were passions that developed into goals and aspirations--something I put all my energy, motivation, time and heart towards. Originally, I defined my dreams as definition #4 (a strongly desired goal or purpose). Now, I'm in favor of the definition #2 (a visionary creation of the imagination).

It isn't a secret. We all have our dreams; many of us aspire to become doctors, lawyers, or even astronauts (heard that). When we're young, we choose different paths depending on many variables; what our parents want, what we want, money, benefits, traveling, and other seemingly-important things. 

It isn't a secret that many of us don't choose our "dreams" and "aspirations" based off of what makes us happy and what will help make the world a better place. Most of are a bit selfish in deciding what we want to do with our lives, whatever we may believe. 

It's also not a secret that I've been pretty passionate about the same dream for awhile now: being a pilot in the Air Force in order to accomplish my goal of going to space. All of the hard work and extra effort through high school, to focusing all of my energy and passion to the subject matter relating to, doing every activity possible to earn the experience & knowledge to better myself, and simply being truly passionate about space & astronomy & the act of going to space... 

I was fortunate enough to sit in an instructive seminar that Justin Patton presented about communication skills and maximizing our potential. The simple exercises we did (writing down our own values, what we find most important), really helped reassure the path I was dedicated to following. 

Inspiring others. Space Bound. If I were to brand myself, that's what I'd want to be perceived by audiences alike. Inspiring others that no matter what the dream, you can reach it. The USA has this set belief that everyone is entitled to success by working hard. I was living the all American dream seemingly so.

Today, I received awful news that put everything at a cold still. Although I've done everything in my power (academics, focus, passion, values), this deciding factor was out of my control. My eye sight doesn't meet the regulations (that is, my near vision is 20/25 in lieu of the 20/20) in order to be a pilot for the armed services. Despite a life long dream of going to space, I have to once and for all admit that this dream was just that, a dream.

I can continue to ask "what if" questions, wondering if my sight would be perfect if I had eaten more blueberries, grew up eating red onions in lieu of white onions... However, this won't get me any further than where I am currently at this cold still. 

Right now, things may seem nothing shy of being blue, but I know provided time, I'll discover a new passion that will lead to a new aspirations. I really don't have any ideas of what I'm going to do next, considering, for the past 11 years, I always wanted to go to space. Some may recommend becoming an engineer and getting on deck to becoming an astronaut that way; however, I won't be shy to admit I have no passion whatsoever to engineering.

I will share this with everyone; no matter how long we might have our eyes set on a goal, sometimes, they're just not reachable. We can work our little hearts out and be the most passionate about a job; but if there's something out of our control keeping us from that dream, we must learn to accept it & move on. 

Will I have a new life-set plan tomorrow lined out? Most definitely not. It's going to take quite some time to "move on". The end of a life long dream feels worse than a bad break up. Right now, I will honestly admit I have no hope or reason to be motivated or passionate about anything. Possibly the most negative person ever. I've never had time to become passionate about anything else, and now I'm being asked to discover a new found passion. Quite impossible considering this passion of this dream was strengthened over all this time.  

 How else would you expect a person to react when their dream was just drowned in disbelief. It's a difficult reality to grasp, as I must accept that I didn't let myself down and that I didn't let others down. I'll be able to accept these new found realities once more provided time.

Time developed my life long dreams. December 3rd 2012 put an end to that dream once and for all. What's next? 

Continue to dream, as they are what allow us to follow our aspirations and passions. 




Monday, November 12, 2012

Being Independent Starts Somewhere...

Here is a memoir I wrote back in high school about my sister Cassie... My views about history being in history for a reason has developed for a reason. Here's a slight insight of my journey to where I am now. I can read this now and state that although I may be independent, I have began to let others into my life in terms of trust and support. I may be just as stubborn as the next mule, however, one must remember that everyone is the way they are for a reason.

I never saw the use for writing until these past few years. It's helped me for personal growth in order to look back and realize where my views were and how they've changed (if any). I really do recommend writing down your thoughts and personal insights while you have them in order to develop into better individuals down the road as we all aspire towards our goals. 

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“The Same Shirt Is the Last Sight”
Here I sat on an old-style European bench you’d find while wandering in an ancient attic; an emerald green, quilted satin atop seized the old store-bought leather once abroad. I witnessed the entire occurrence, not questioning anyone, or anything that had occurred. Minutes of the struggles of keeping him down had passed before she ran into the family room to my right, screaming, begging, and pleading. And there she stood, those rounded glasses, tears and all, screeching “Get off of him! Leave him alone!”
“Let go of me!” Chris muttered in response.
 I could not understand why she was petrified. Her tears were falling quicker than that of a hyped-up hamster running in a ball. Her shrieks of “Stop it!” and her continuous bawling pierced the air leaving an everlasting squeal pounding against my ear-drum for days to come.
“Get off of me!” is all that Chris was able to belt out, gasping for air with my parents’ weight on top of his to keep him down. My parents were to the left keeping a once-rebel brother of mine down, for he was trying to escape the security of our home to work for some yahoo down the dirt road of ours. My parents, his biological mom and step-dad, holding him down, like an old German sheppard does, lying about, protecting her new carefree pups from the dangers of the unstable world. My parents continued to grapple him. Cassie continued to wail before running back into her room. I continued to watch it all. No one was hurt, other than emotions and feelings; the day continued on like any other day at my house, including a cold shoulder from Chris, and her.
Cassie’s hair falls just below her bust, creeping its way down her body with each passing year. In the winter, her hair screams for the sunlight, for her hair holds a dreary paper bag color; flat, with no array of tones. In the lights of the summer, the sun sharpens her once dull hair into a splash of autumn galore. Her eyes are that of a combustion of a wide variety of greens and browns. Around her pupils, a subtle olive-green; an olive that isn’t quite ripe and remains attached to the vine. Speckles of auburn fall leaves dwindle onto her eyes with each unwanted glance. She shares that generic smile, made only by braces, with every fake grin she presents. Her one dimple on her face, on her left cheek, proved her to be real for her imperfection. Her skin, so refreshingly washed-out all year, for it doesn’t scorch or tan in the suns glare, comes alive by the pigmentations that are gained by the blushing of anger, and enjoyment she prevails. Pearled, powdered-pink satiny skin is one of which any could admire. Not an inch past five-foot, her head stands tall. Muscles on her man-legs acquired by many years of dedication to burdensome cross-country; calves so pronounced it is impossible to distinguish them compared to a mannequin. Her awkward, gangling arms do not fit the excess of her hourglass-physique. Not one crevasse lies on her face from years of stress. Her bust still lies higher than her waist that resembles one of a petite frame. She does not hold a crooked stance, for she stands tall; feet planted firmly to the ground, standing like that of a warrior ready to go to war. She holds her own, for her back isn’t a rude visitor when passing others. She walks with a horse’s prance; picking her legs up further than need be, as her arms swing to an inconsistent cadence, bouncing as if gravity ceased to exist. The turn of her head is far from graceful; she wishes death upon you by that stern, fierceness, and quickness of her glance. She carries an aromatic essence wherever she situated; one of the pre-determined “ocean mist”. Far from, this fragrance was of fresh and earthy-rain combined with cut grass in the summer days that tempted the nose, as well as that of a sandy resort without the stagnant water. The everlasting whiff of clean linen presides above all, while the Snuggy fabric-softener stains her clothes forevermore. Every time the over-priced fabric-softener is in my nose’s range, I’ll always remember the irony of our last connection.
“Why are you wearing that shirt Steph? I had mine on first! Take it off and put a different one on! I’m not going to wear the same shirt as my 2nd grader sister!” she exclaimed with an annoyance in her voice, as if it was degrading to have me as her sister. My grandmother tried calming her down; it was no use. She stomped away out of the family room into the outdated kitchen that belonged to my grandmother, and out to her bus. I changed my shirt, grabbed a heavy, but pleasant jacket, while dragging my feet across the titian linoleum that rested creakily on the kitchen floor, and continued onto my bus. I didn’t know that this would be the last time I saw her; besides, it was her fault. She was the one who insisted on letting the lies become the reality.
The day following the holding-down of Chris, my family at the time (consisting of myself, my twin brother Jacob, my half brother Chris, and my four half sisters, Cassie, Lizzy, Cindy and Angie) went to the lake with my Aunt Jan, my mom’s sister. The summer day could not had been more perfect; splashing in the water, time with the family, and drama had refrained from existence. After all the swimming we could tolerate, off to grandmas we went and spent the night in a home that reeked of pipe-smoke and moth-balls. During these twenty-four hours at my grandparents, lying was a constant reality.
...For the next week, I remained at my grandparents. I didn’t make anything of it. It was already the summer of 2002 and we hadn’t spent very much time with them that year. The following week, my grandmother took me to an odd building. It was next to the police station, no bigger than an average-size farm-house. Albion, Indiana didn’t need a large police station; it was only a small town of two-thousand, where everyone knew everyone. It was a tight-knit community; family-owned shops, one high school in the county, and farms were everywhere. This out-of-place building was meant to be white, but after harsh years in the weather, the white faded to that of a filthy gym sock, remaining at the bottom of the laundry hamper. I entered through the black rimmed glass doors, and sat waiting for what I thought was a dentist appointment.
“Now you two, if they ask ya what had happened the day before ya went to the lake, ya know, ‘bout Chris, so just be honest. None of your silly made up stories, ok?” my grandmother told Cassie and I both. She leaned over and whispered something into Cassie’s ear, I made nothing of it. Cassie went on in into an intimidating woman’s room. She had black rimmed glasses, messy pulled back hair, with blond and brown and every color in-between streaking through it, and unpleasant rolls begging to be released from a skirt two sizes too small hugging and exposing every no-longer-hidden dimple. Cassie came back after what seemed like a year to me, and she grinned. That’s the same grin she had when she lied to my parents about her grades in school; eyes partially squinted, generic smile, and a firm grip to her shirt, clenching it with all of her might. I went in next. This lady resembled a city skyscraper, hovering over my eight-year old body for an infinite distance. I sat down.
“Steph. Did anything unusual happen last week?” the strange woman asked.
“No.” I said, hiding behind her name plate. She folded her hands and continued.
“Last week, your parents were in an argument with Chris, correct?”
“Mhmmm” I muttered.  
“Now Steph, sweetie, what were you doing while they argued?”
“Well…” I was nervous. Things didn’t seem to add up. I lied. “I was asleep.” I responded hesitantly.
“The entire time?” the woman continued.
“Yes. I was sleeping on the green bench the entire time and didn’t hear nothing” I exclaimed. “Can I go now?”
And so I left, very awkwardly. Why did the lady ask so many questions? Why was this stranger making me feel the need to lie? Why did Cassie grin when she came back, there was nothing to grin about, this lady had meant business. After an hour sitting there in the waiting room, full of outdated TIME magazines, my grandmother explained to me that I’d be staying at her place for awhile. I just wanted my mommy.
So months passed, and I stayed at my grandmothers. Cassie and I had to share a room. It was my Aunt Jan’s old room before she moved out. Two beds, the new one hers, the old one mine. An old black and white television was in the corner of the room, with crooked wires on top, connecting that box to the breaking news of the day. There was tension bursting with every breath in that room. I wanted the light on, she wanted it off. I wanted to watch Wheel of Fortune, she wanted to watch Jeopardy!. She commented about my parents about how awful they supposedly were, and I disagreed. We were arguing about everything; the only thing we seemed to agree on was that we both wanted our own room.
Before moving into my grandmothers, Cassie and I shared quality time together that can never be replaced. We played Barbie’s, doctor, and even tag in the yard. But that was all when she was still in elementary school, not middle school. She would start middle school that fall when we were living at our grandparents. A few weeks before the “Chris incident”, Cassie and I had just finished cleaning our rooms.
“Steph, I’ll pay you a buck to get my crayon from the bottom of the garbage can.” She asked cunningly.
“OK!” I answered with my excited, squeaky, high pitched voice. So off I went onto an adventure to earn a profit. I went through the struggle of climbing a garbage can four times the size of me. It had a burnt, rusty color on the outside. I opened the lid, and a rush of a stagnant, rotten, stench penetrated my poor little, rounded-off nose. The inside was lined with a scum, which had been growing for years. Struggles of getting that crayon prevailed; I had finally reached the crayon! So, I let her know. She just started laughing, and called me names.
“Dumpster Diver!” she shouted in joy, as if I was supposed to know what that meant. I got a dollar; I wasn’t concerned that in reality, she was making a fool out of me.
            After I got onto that bus, I attended my third-grade class at my new school. I went to the Counselors’ office, and sitting in the room were my aunts and uncles and grandparents. They were all crying. I wasn’t sure why, it was just another school day.
            “We’re going to miss you” bawled my Aunt April, who married my mom’s brother Butch.
            “I’ll see you next weekend April!” I said, not knowing that it was all a lie, and that day was the last day I’d see them. I left the room, and standing at the end of the hall in the main office stood my parents. They finally came and got me and my twin brother Jacob! Oh, how I was relieved to go back to my real home, with my parents.
            Celebration came to a halt. We moved within the next few weeks, down to Northern Kentucky, to be closer to my dad’s family. I declared my life as ruined. I was away from the family that I grew up with, and now I only had my twin brother to play with, no longer any sisters. Who was I to look up to? My life had officially restarted.
            It’s been eight[now ten] years since the move. Eight years since I’ve seen my old family. I’ve lived in three different houses. I’ve attended three different elementary schools, two different middle schools, and one high school. I’ve lost relationships, and I’ve gained relationships. I didn’t want to live here in Kentucky, “state of the hicks” as my old family would commonly say. They always frowned upon Kentucky, which is why I resented this state for majority of my naive years. I reflect back to my snafu of a childhood on a daily basis, constantly with the “what ifs”. What if Cassie had seen the entire incident? What if Cassie had told the truth? What if Cassie was actually a sister? I even ask “Why did Cassie lie?” To this day, I don’t have the answers. I’ve been faced with many opportunities that I would not have been granted if I remained in Albion, which I have here, in Northern Kentucky—of all places. Cassie today, she remains in Albion, Indiana, four hours driving distance away. She and I have tried to work through our disagreements and our remote relationship within the past few years via cell phone and social networks. The results have been unsuccessful, and the third time was not the charm. Trying to mend family relationships is in the past, as is she; the moment you start to build a relationship, it’s torn away and torn into pieces. I continue to live with an emotional guard set in stone, not letting anyone in, and not giving any of my valued trust away. I trust myself, I support myself, and I will succeed by myself. 


Tuesday, November 6, 2012

Just Take the Punch Thrown at You

We all have goals; short term, long term, and even a bucket list. These goals don't only motivate us to make it to a check point in our lives, but these goals also play a major role in deciding which path we're going to be taking in life. However, one must remember that:

Not everything is set in stone; even those set in stone usually break provided the circumstances and time.



Following my classmates whom I graduated with is a daily reminder that life truly is short and not to take advantage of a precious moment. Having graduated high school less than a year ago, it's astonishing about how many things have happened that no one could have ever imagined; classmates are enlisting, already dropping out of college, getting married, having children, and some are no longer with us. 

Surrounding myself with fellow college students helps me stay at task, but I can't be naive any longer about the reality of it all; even if you have path set for yourself, it doesn't mean that you're going to follow through. 

In order to stay on track on the paths we've marked out for ourselves to accomplish the goals we've always aspired to accomplish, we must build a strong foundation. Take me for example; I've already switched my major(s) twice, as well as my minor. Will I change them again? I sure hope not; I already set my 4.5 year plan, and spent a lot of time doing so. It's something I intend on following through and sticking to it. Then again, even if I believe my plan is set in stone, it doesn't mean that nothing will come up.

As college students, we must take advantage of the time we're granted now. Everyone should continue on their path, and not allow anything to derive your focus. Hope. Dream. Believe. Appreciate those around you.  Apologize to those we've once held grudges to. It may sound silly, but if provided the opportunity, take a short walk outside and just think. 


Taking a walk by yourself doesn't only allow for some exercise or a breath of fresh air, but it allows time to think. If you're anything like me, you have most of your realizations while showering (because you're by yourself). During said walk, whether the 10 minute walk to class, or a 30 minutes out in the woods, just think about where you are at this stage in life; recollect your aspirations and remember why you have them. Think about those who have helped you get to this point. Most importantly, think about if you're really happy

We're not promised an eternal life; we must make the most of what we have now, today & set up success for tomorrow. We may be the most stubborn individuals, but even the best in the league are thrown curve balls that they miss. It's important we stay strong enough to take the unexpected, and develop a new path to take to accomplish just as important goals, or even more important goals than before. 



Remember, even those set in stone may tumble. 


*I'm not attempting to be negative in any means, but I know we're all strong enough to get back up if our plan fell through to develop a new one and build a stronger foundation. 

Thursday, October 25, 2012

Don't Stumble Over The Past


The past is in the past; I've always been a firm believer of that. Although we must use the past to improve our future, we must remember not to stumble on it, or allow the past to bring us down. This is something that has been brought to my attention more and more lately.
In the first few months in college while meeting new people and sharing your story, there's a common routine of the questions exchanged. A typical conversation looks something like this.

Stranger: "So what are you majoring in?"
Me: "Physics, Atmospheric Science and minoring in Russian Studies."
Stranger:  "Oh wow... what do you plan on doing with that?"
Me: "[Enter story about wanting to be an astronaut, but set on being a diplomat now]"
Stranger: "Well good luck!", OR, "Huh, interesting..."



Having to encounter a constant reminder of my education every day, I can't help but to
reconsider my past. It isn't a secret to anyone that the USAFA(Air Force Academy) was where I was headed until I chose not to attend due to naive reasons (never let another individual influence your decision when it comes to school!) Some may say that this mistake of not going to the Academy has to be my biggest "regret", while I correct them and say it's possibly one of the most important "lessons" that I've learned.

Mistakes. We all make these. However, none us have mistakes. "Mistake" is a simple word that carries a complex meaning. Whether or not you define a mistake as a "regret" or a "lesson learned", it's what separates those who still live in the past and those who go far in life.


If I moped around and allowed my mistake at the time to be a regret today, I wouldn't be experiencing college at all, I wouldn't be meeting the people I am, and I wouldn't have any motivation to move forward with my goals.Sure, it's easy to just lament the days where you thought everything was going perfect for you, but you must remember that we live a life... Life is full of regrets and lessons learned. Why have more regrets than lessons learned?


Having the attitude and realization that mistakes are nothing but lessons learned, allow us to move forward and to be motivated to move forward; whereas those who choose to declare mistakes as regrets catch themselves in holes that were dug behind them.


We're in college. We're here to be thinking about our future, to be doing for our future, and simply to be enjoying the present. I'm not sure what you experienced at your orientation for college, but my future was stressed. Nothing was mentioned of my past. The only significant importance that affected my college experience thus far would be my acceptance to college. And that should be the only significant importance. (*May it not be forgotten that your past mistakes also define said lessons learned. These are also very significant for our college experience, as we learn to grow and to become wiser, and not to make the same dumb, naive, and reckless mistakes.)


Moving forward. Pursuing our passion. That's why we're here at college.
Asking "what if". Lamenting the old days. That's why people get off track.



It's simple guys. Make the best of your situation. The past is in the past; don't allow old holes that were dug catch you in a trap on your path to your goals. Holes in paths always have enough space on the trail to guide right around it. We can't stumble over our past, because when we do, the path you were following tends to get more narrow, thus ridding of much guidance around the holes that were dug in our past and getting stuck.


If life were a forest, metaphorically, I'd aim to get to the edge to see what's out there for me. What would you do? 


Saturday, October 13, 2012

Make Like A Chameleon


I've always admired the camouflage techniques of chameleons; being able to blend and become one with their surroundings. If a chameleon is in a tree, they're going to mimic browns and greens... I'm pretty sure they're not going to turn bright yellows or oranges; this would do more harm than justice. Provided, they do change their colors in order to survive in the wild, however, it's really quite simple-- they become what they're surrounded by in order to ensure a better a tomorrow. This is easily comparable to who we are as individuals. We've all heard the saying, "you are who you surround yourself with", and this couldn't be more true-- especially in college


For the first few months in college, I was hanging out with so many different people--all different values. Provided, I didn't agree with most of their morals and values, but I didn't think it'd affect mine (besides, I'm a strong individual). With that being said, stepping back from the situation I was able to realize that morals that once were utterly important to me, I granted exceptions and tolerated the atmosphere I was in... Was I weak, or was I strong? Regardless, my morals were no longer where I wanted them to be, and I wasn't en route to the person that I aspired to be. 

There are so many influences in college that weren't as evident as in high school (even if they were there), and I'd be lying if I said that I wasn't intimidated. It's easier to just fall culprit to alcohol, partying to party (not to socialize), and other such habits, than it is to politely say no thanks. Sure, it's college, and it may seem all fine and dandy, however, what about later down the road? Yes, I understand that "YOLO" is the motto, but in actuality, our choices and our affiliations are going to stick with us; it defines our personal history. It's easier said than done if you're used to living a carefree life style, but it's really important to think about your future. Being in college, we're a few years shy of our future and potential careers, and it's especially important to me that I don't start slacking off now. 



Although we aspire for the future, we can't neglect the present. 
It's crunch time people. We're developing into the individuals we want && choose to be. Why allow influences now to set us off track? Being in college already puts you a few steps ahead of others; and getting that degree would be quite the accomplishment. In order to successfully accomplish that goal, we need to surround ourselves with others that share the same goals, morals and values. It may have taken me longer than I wanted, but I realized that if you don't spend time with people with the same values, it's easy to stray away from your morals, values, and of course goals.

Like the chameleon, we all want to ensure we have a better tomorrow and not throw all of our hard work away. And like the chameleon, what keeps us from achieving a better tomorrow is our environment. We must remember to surround ourselves with those who are going to support us, share the same values and morals, and remind us that we are going to reach those goals. They weren't lying when they said you become who you surround yourself; do you want to be someone surrounded by others with completely different values than you, or someone surrounded by others who share the same values as you and encourage personal growth? As always, the choice is yours. 

Sunday, October 7, 2012

The Unwanted Love-Bug

It was Friday night, and my friends all wanted to go out as a group to go get dinner and a movie to explore Louisville outside of it's University campus. That's all fine and dandy, but of us four girls, three had boyfriends.

Guess who was the lucky 7th wheel? 



Now, I'm not going to complain about that evening as I picked up a "date" of my great guy friend who lives down the hall. So really, I wasn't the 7th wheel that night, however, it doesn't mean I wasn't the odd man out prior outings before. I'd like to think that all of us have experienced being the odd man out, although I know there are individuals whom are constantly dating and have a significant other. Those who are dating, they seem as if they came out of a romance movie that won 5 different Emmy awards; constantly looking into each others eyes, holding hands in public, the man is a gentlemen, and seemingly, they're the happiest people in the world... This may be fine and true, however, why worry about it?

I'll be the first to admit that for quite some time after being at college, I questioned why I was single and why everybody else seemed so happy. After going on some dates with lovely freshman college students(some flukes, some OK), it didn't take long for me to realize what the answers were. Why am I single? My friends like to joke around (so I think) that I'm single because I'm "picky". This may be true, but you can never be too picky about finding a significant other. This isn't the realization I had though.

They say you change the most when you're in college and discover your true passions and colors. And that's just it. I'm still discovering who I am, what values are most important to me, and who I aspire to be some day. If I were to suddenly spend majority of my free time during this crucial development period on some stranger in hopes of getting to know them, I'd become side-tracked and influenced away (or sometimes even towards) from getting to know myself. Sometimes, it's more than OK to put yourself first.

Worry about finding yourself first before worrying about finding somebody else. If not, you're view on relationships is simply warped.

Why do those in relationships seem so happy? Originally, I really wanted to analyze the possibilities; however, it became apparent of the real answer. I was looking at everybody in relationships through rose-colored glasses. It was all about perspective. Because I hadn't accepted that it's OK to be single, my view on those in relationships, was in fact warped.. That was exactly the point; they just seemed happy in my perspective--rose-colored glasses. 

Don't fill your head with thoughts, questioning when the love-bug will hit you next. When you're wanting a significant other, that's when you'll settle for someone. 

The worlds best treasures are found when we aren't looking for them.