Scope it Out

My horoscope for today, 30 July 2007: [Aries, in case you care.]

Can you tell the difference between a real problem and an imagined problem in your life? There is a lot of drama going on around you, and it could be making you think there are dilemmas where none truly exist. Don't fall into the trap of thinking that just because someone makes a lot of noise that they have an issue you need to help solve. They probably want your attention, but you don't have to give it to them. Focus on what you know matters, not on what they tell you matters.

Are these people in my family room? Are they watching me? So freaking creepy...

If I must presume to call anything my "greatest weakness," it is this. I, being more than aware of the emotions of those around me, have developed in my somewhat short lifetime a little, nasty habit of thinking I need to ALWAYS solve other people's problems. Seriously. I find someone who's down, or furious, and BAM! I fall into the role of "counselor." Helper. Aid. Emotional outlet. Call it what you will, I was it.

My friends know me as "the calm one." In the event of an emergency, I'm awesomely level-headed. Really. I'm not bragging. I am top-notch material when faced with a dangerous issue. I don't panic easily [with a few exceptions, of course, like the time I stopped breathing. I panicked then.] and I am REALLY good at handing out orders. I'm a boss, yet compassionate. This in mind, you can see how easily I became the person they went to with their problems. You can see how I became the counselor.

So this was me: I felt others' pain, by choice. I let their problems become my problems. By choice.

To you, it sounds stupid; to me, it made complete sense. See, I felt [and still believe] that human beings, as individuals, are alive for a reason. Not randomly. And if you notice, the ones that have no purpose usually don't last very long. Again, not random. [This conclusion does NOT include those who HAD a purpose and were cut down... That's the result of people without purposes trying too hard to be something they're not]

So my purpose, to me, was to bear the burden of everyone else, to make their time just a tad bit easier, so they can find their own purpose. I was lucky--my job was handed to me on a silver platter [not literally] and my path was set straight ahead. I knew what I had to do, how to do it, and who I needed to help. I became a Guardian of others' souls and minds. I thought it was all settled.

Do you see the flaw in my excellent plan yet? Do you see what soon became my near-downfall?

I see it now. I helped too much. I took on too much. I squeezed way too many emotions in my tiny little brain and thought I'd work it out. WRONG!

I was arrogant. I was conceited. I thought I was invincible, undeniable, infallible. WRONG!

Here I stand, somewhat broken by these highly ignorant assumptions I once made. In taking on so much hurt and sorrow from others, I merely hurt myself.

As I read my horoscope today, I am reminded of the cost of overconfidence. I am reminded of the price I once paid for my overbearing care of others. Like a mother who won't let her children grow, I held people back from their obstacles and in turn presented myself with a field of hurdles.

This is my greatest weakness, my highest fault. Instead of guiding people along their paths, instead of guarding them the proper way, I stole their burdens and shielded them from all that I considered pain, shielded them from the TRUTH.

Today, I ask of you, and of myself, to consider your purpose. Consider the problems and issues in your life that you felt the urge to tackle alone. If they're not YOUR problems and you can't think of an extremely valid reason to bear them, let 'em go. Release the unwanted burden. Help yourself first, and then help others if you feel it's right.

Review what you value and the price you must pay to keep those valuables from harm. Can you pay the price? Do you have enough strength, enough life, to protect said valuables? If you don't, then maybe you shouldn't be protecting them.

Don't listen to anyone else when they try to tell you what's important. You'll know. Encouraged by the actions of those around me, I once valued my dignity, and went to great lengths to prevent myself from being humiliated or embarrassed. It took a lot of effort on my part [especially because I trip over everything within a ten-mile radius] so I decided it wasn't worth it. Sure, I still get embarrassed over stupid stuff. But I don't let it haunt me anymore.

Emotional strength isn't a Mastercard--you can't use it first and repay the debt later. Using your strength is paying in cash; once it's gone, it's gone. Spent. Depleted. Wasted.

And a word of advice? You don't ever want to be "gone." 'Cause it really, really sucks.

Honey, I'm Home

I'm home!

This week was awesome. Now I'll finally be able to remember DC and Williamsburg [instead of vague flashbacks that are almost always inaccurate]. And spending time with family is always a plus, of course.

After a very active month of July, visiting both coasts of the U.S. and the other side of my own state, I am prepared for relaxation. I'm tired. I'm ready to sit around and just do nothing. With, of course, the colossal exception of the tedious summer homework my teachers find it so tempting to assign...

But as I lay myself to rest in this glorious kind of nothingness, I remember to be thankful for the traveling I get to do. I'm only sixteen--most kids my age haven't seen as many places as I have. I'm one of the lucky ones, one of those kids who sees it all. I've been all over the nation, and even beyond the borders, and I don't regret any vacation I've ever taken. I'm thankful for the parents and friends who have made my travel possible.

Let's face it: Once I graduate, all that traveling is over. Finito. Complete-o. I have to become an adult, with real responsibilities and real worries/cares. Like a job. Ugh.

Here's to travel, to sightseeing, and being THE best [and most embarrassing] tourist to tread about the planet. Hear, hear!

Forward, Ho!

I'm off [again], so as tradition demands, I leave this precious blog of mine with a few words of wisdom and departure.

In a dream once, I was told:

"It's in your final moments, they say, that you learn who and what was truly worth it. It's in your final breath, they say, that you learn and speak the truth. And it's in your final second, they say, that you wish you could've told those worthy people everything that was the truth."

I intend to tell the truth. Do you?

Do you, Government, tell the truth? Do you, Political Parties, tell the truth? Teachers? Parents? Attorneys? Pet store owners? Airport security men? Massage-chair salesmen?

Try it sometime. It's absolutely wonderful.

:)

Connections

There is a song by The Hush Sound called "Echo." A part of it goes a little something like this:

Echo
We are all connected
The lighthouse, the voyage
For history's sake, would you please take notice?

I was drawn to this song the first time I heard it simply because of those few lines. They speak so simply about the connection between all living things, the connection that so many men and women choose to ignore as they go about their merry way.

I particularly like the last line, about "history's sake." So much has been done in the past by those who have forgotten the connection. Wars, murders, the like--they've forgotten what it means to be connected with another human being.

I'm definitely not suggesting we all start wearing peace signs and shirts that say MAKE LOVE NOT WAR because I don't think we can all just "love each other." In fact, the idea repulses me. Love everyone? No way. You have to earn my love, you can't just have it. I don't go handing out hugs to every bloke who looks in my direction.

But why ignore the connection? This little tidbit fits nicely into my Plan Be [see previous post]. Be aware of the connection you have with everything around you, living and nonliving. Be capable of using this connection to save yourself from danger or death. Use it, idiots. USE IT.

Because nobody can "go it alone." Sure, you can try. But you'll be empty. Alone. Scared. You can't exist as yourself when you're alone. I know that sounds so wrong--why shouldn't someone be able to be themselves with no one else around? Because you'll be filling in the blanks by yourself, that's why. You'll force yourself to be everyone else you need in your life. You'll be your own mother, father, sister, brother, and mentor, just to survive. You will get left behind.

So if you truly want to just be, to just exist as you are and live as just you, you'll have to be aware of that connection. The mental connection between you and every other living and nonliving thing on this planet and beyond. Whether or not you accept its existence right now, someday you'll realize it's there, and you'll be forced to rely on it to save yourself.

You'll need other people to help you exist. And if you don't ignore that precious connection, you'll be better off.

Have fun, world. :)

Further Bulletins as Events Warrant

Lol. That's a quote from one of the Amber Brown books of my childhood. Spoken by her friend Brandi, a walking newsstand. No idea why I can still remember it. Moving on...

Double JJ Ranch was awesome, with Thena and her family. :) Best parts were the dunes--Jeep riding and very nice looking 4-wheelers [the boys, not the bikes]--and the waterpark [mmm lifeguards]. As for horseback riding, I've never felt so sore. That's a memory I'll carry with me for awhile.

Cedar Point two days ago? Yeah, it sucked. Poured the entire day and the only rides I got to go on were Magnum and Corkscrew. Not even good rides. Waited in line for the Maverick for THREE HOURS and we didn't even get to ride it. Grr.

But the biggest news of all? The biggest thing that's happened to me in past I-don't-know-how-many days?

A lady from a publishing company is reading my book. :D

Makes my heart shiver and my palms sweat. I'm excited and nervous all at the same time, desperate for constructive criticism yet terrified of what she'll say. I'll post more on that some other time.

Sigh. Life moves so quickly. I've barely even touched my summer homework and July is almost over. But that's okay--nobody likes school anyway. Especially me. :)

Arty is [about to do another, more lengthy post, and] OUT.

Plan Be

I know I've said on here before that I thought the answer to the world's troubles was loving one another [see post "It's Simply a Difference of Opinion..."]. Yes, I honestly thought that was possible. I thought that a world of arrogant, self-centered people [myself included] could learn to love other people.

Ha. Yeah. Let me know how that goes down.

So now I offer an alternative, a Plan B. I truly don't care if you opt to follow my lead or not. It's your life, not mine. I choose to live mine the way I feel is best.

Here's the general idea: stop. Stop worrying about stupid, little things. Stop trying to convince everyone else that you're right and they're all wrong. Stop shoving opinions down the throats of others. Stop pretending to care about people you don't even know. Stop striving for perfection that you'll never reach.

Stop everything, and just be. I know it sounds so difficult, to let go of everything you hold near and dear and just let yourself exist. Let go of stupid arguments and pointless issues. Let go of self-consciousness. Be you, with no strings attached. Show people who you are and don't given a single damn about what they think.

Release your hold and things you once considered imperative to survival, realizing what and who you truly need to live. Become a force to be reckoned with. Become someone that the weaker people admire. Become that one person that holds the power to not only accept the world, but to change it.

And all by simply existing as you are.

I'm almost there, I daresay. I don't care what other people think of me or my actions. I don't feel the need to provide a reason for those actions, especially not when a reason is demanded from someone I don't respect. That's the worst phrase you can ask me--"But why?"--because it'll only make me close my mouth tighter. I think before I leap. I process before I react. I don't need to tell everyone in the world why I do what I do.

And I'm someone you don't mess with. I'm not being cocky, I know it's true. Sure, I won't physically attack you, because I'm a bit on the small side and fighting isn't worth my time, but I can beat your illogical arguments. I won't pretend to be invincible, or the most intelligent person in the world. Far from both--VERY far. But I think I have enough will to survive and enough brain cells to get by.

This is my plan. My Plan Be. I'm going to just be Arty, the girl I know I am underneath my half-tan skin. My name, my written identity, matters little. I don't care what you call me. I'm just me.

Because the world isn't what it seems. Reality isn't a line in the sand. Fiction and non-fiction have ceased to mean much to me--they've become one and the same. The things I thought could never happen have happened, and the things I expected were far from the truth. My life, the life that I'm choosing, involves so much more than the mundane day-to-day grind. I have more than that to worry about. It goes deeper than typical high school troubles, fashion conflicts, and dishwasher detergent choices.

What would you do if the world of reality you'd worked so hard to build just crumbled away with one wave? And again? And again? You'd abandon it, and jump in the water.

That's what I'm doing. I'm giving up conventional reality and leaping into this unknown, satisfied with just existing and being nothing more than I already am. I'm strong enough to withstand this tide. I'm whole enough to avoid breaking into a million pieces. I'm smart enough to avoid the big swells that destroy homes, lives, hearts, and happiness.

Life cannot stop me. Life cannot bring me down. I am more than just your average human girl, hard to kill and hard to understand. I am more. I am something more.

I am me.

Lesson #13

Coffee? Bad idea. Especially when you're in a ritzy mall, surrounded by snobs who are definitely watching your every move.

And when you're tired and have a low tolerance for high amounts of caffeine. Meaning, of course, that you become so hyperactive and wired that you make strange giggly noises.

Hehehe...

You @$$...

It's always been so confusing to me, the power of a simple word, composed of completely normal letters, written the same way as one would write words like "cat" or "stalagmite." What makes particular words so offensive, so vulgar that they can't be said in front of toddlers or on TV? What makes that certain arrangement of letters so disgusting?

Connotation, of course, plays a major role. A word muttered as a curse or insult is bound to become offensive over time. But why? Who decided which words are "bad" and "good"? Who got to vote that one word is worse than another? I don't quite understand.

Let's start with "damn." Not a word you'd expect to come from the mouth of a small child [it sometimes does, in cases like mine, when a certain great-grandfather spilled it too often in front of me]. Yet while kids draw away from it, gape their mouths at brave peers who use it in the classroom, adults throw it around without a second thought. It's not a very bad word, it's just not a nice one. Sort of like "hell" and "pissed."

I think, perhaps, it is context more than connotation with these little words that determines its "goodness" or "badness." Writers, like me, use it to provoke a stronger emotion in the reader [I can still remember the first time I felt comfortable enough to use "damn" in a story, and it made the piece SO much better... I think I was nine?] and speakers/debaters use it carefully, attempting to sound sophisticated and severe at the same time.

See that? Sophisticated! The same word that makes a child sound ill-mannered makes a debater sophisticated. I don't understand.

Well, maybe I do. It's all in the delivery [isn't everything?]. If I sat down to my computer and dropped the f-bomb in the first sentence of a book, it would be a very stupid idea. But if was writing from an impoverished urban boy's point of view and after a chapter or so my character dropped the bomb, it would be nearly appropriate. I'm not fond of that word--too ugly, reminds me of slamming my hand in a door--but it would fix the context and delivery and help the reader to understand my character.

Historical reference is okay, too. If I'm writing a story set in the 1850s and a character drops a racial slur, it's also almost appropriate. Again, not my purpose for writing. Hate history, and slurs. But it works.

I'm not about to scrawl "bad words" across the side of a building, but when people click their tongues and tsk their teeth at well-placed swear words, it makes me want to grab a can of spray paint. Seriously. Grow up. If I was using these words to insult someone or for no good reason, then I'd let you tsk and click. But honestly? I'm no moron. Sometimes I act like one, but really and truly, I'm pretty intelligent. And I'm a lot more mature than most kids my age. So if I want to swear in my book, get over it. If I want to throw the f-word around an elementary school classroom, punch me.

End of story.

Arty is [in a writing mood, and] OUT.