Lightbulb Moments and Other Less Fascinating Ideas

Pants on Fire

2011-11-28T15:13:00.000-08:00

I really should be doing something productive right now since this week is going to be the Hell that it's already turning out to be, however I am too incensed.

Okay, so I'm a _ _ _ _ _ _ _ liar.

Ugh. I need to go to confession.

When I say I won't ever get married... yeah, BIG FAT LIE. Of course anyone who really knows me knows this is utterly false. Nothing could be further from the truth. Yet I make this claim to any person of the opposite sex that expresses any form of interest in that sort of thing whatsoever. And I halfway believe myself. But....

Truth be told I want nothing more. I have all of these goals in my life... graduate with honors, get my masters, get into medical school, be a doctor, be on a hospital board, be a coach.... but nothing, and I mean nothing, means more to me than having a family. The first step, of course, is marriage--a perfect marriage, to someone who wants to take care of me even more than I want to take care of him. And trust me, I'm REALLY good at being that woman who takes care of her man, probably to a fault. I'm not going to even begin to describe my "perfect man" because even I don't know what embodies him. All I know is that he's gonna have to have a heck of a lot of a patience to put up with some of my bullshit (that's a science term). Momma always said it's gonna take some stronger man than most to tie me down.

Maybe my problem is that I have this illusion of everything turning out as "perfectly" as it did for my parents, albeit far from "perfect." But they've been married 25 years with 3 kids, so they had to have found something special. Ha, I even had a timeline of when I wanted everything to happen. Married between 24 and 26, kids by 28 or 30, my own practice by 34... living the good life. Right. But wait, I even have the ring picked out and the wedding gown designed; the whole wedding is planned--sans groom. I'm pathetic.

Okay, so the root of my problem is fear. Typical. (Let me whine for a sec) I'm so over being jaded. I see all of these Facebook posts of all these people from my graduating class getting engaged or staying in relationships for 3 to 6 years at a time... but I can't keep anyone around for more than a couple months? No trouble finding prospects, no. But get past that first few weeks and BAM! they're running the other direction.... So I've taken to asserting that Hell no, I'm never getting married. Seriously, this is but a dramatic conclusion concocted based on my fear of being hurt.

As one put it, I make myself out to be "the devil to date." My response? Well, I can be a bitch (another science term). In my head I have this mental image of a Miranda Lambert song-worthy charade of shooting my revolver at the back tires of a pick-up truck hollering "You get your sorry ass back here!" But let's be real. As Texas Monthly put it in their recent article on Miranda, what girl in Texas that has ever been hurt by a man hasn't wanted to do something like that? She just puts our fantasies into song . So they remain but a daydream and we remain sweet Southern Belles. Take Miranda for example. She sings all of these gunslinger songs about women getting even with good-for-nothing liars, cheats, and fools... but she just recently married Blake Shelton in a picturesque country wedding. So the girl I idolized as the she-woman-man-hater that won't ever need a man even wanted and found it!

So you see? No girl who daydreams about burning down the houses of ex-lovers is really so cold-hearted that she won't ever walk down the aisle. On the contrary, I would reckon that every girl, every human out there wants that companionship. We females just have a stupid way of showing it.

http://www.texasmonthly.com/preview/2011-10-01/feature --Link to article on Miranda Lambert, Texas Monthly October 2011

It's a quarter after one...

2011-11-27T10:15:00.000-08:00

Of course when I have to wake up in five hours I would be suddenly inspired for a blog posting. Alas, I'll keep it short.

I desperately wish I had some musical talent, or at least some lyrical genius.... Some form of talent that is raw and pure, resonating and perpetual. Something I could entertain everyone, everyone, and no one with until the day I die.

I suppose I shouldn't whine. God has bless me with many talents. I'm generally good with people. I'm a fairly decent public speaker. I have a certain way with animals. I learn quickly. I can play video games. I'm a good athlete and have developed excellent hand/eye coordination. I play collegiate softball and I've done fairly well in my career, but it's almost over. I can't keep playing forever; there's no time, place, or organization that allows average ex-college softballers to stick around and try their luck into their forties like there is for men's sports. Slow pitch just isn't the same. But I digress.

My point is that none of the talents I am presumed to have are stage-worthy. I won't be like Julie Andres or Willie Nelson, dazzling the silver screen until I can no longer make it to casting call or kicking out the footlights until my hands are so crippled with arthritis I can't pick my guitar.

But I used to OWN the stage. I must admit I have no qualms about being the center of attention. Perhaps I thrive on in? I used to sing in honor choir and church choir when I was younger. I got major parts in many of the school plays or holiday performances I did. There's a video that will probably be played at my wedding rehearsal dinner (God willing I even have a wedding) of me at 8 years old taking the mic from a resort band and singing and dancing to La Vida Loca by Ricky Martin in front of all the resort guests. I got a standing ovation. I even won a gold medal in my individual performance in figure skating when I was 10. Uh, what happened?

My singing voice died with puberty. I mean I can get through an average karaoke song in key but my voice just isn't pretty. Acting... I never had time for it and theater in high school always involved musicals and required actors who could actually belt it. I wish I could play an instrument but as the athlete I had to choose between flute lessons and volleyball practice (who wants to be a band nerd anyway?). And it's not as if I'm funny enough to be a comedian.

Maybe I'll learn to play piano. Hell, my little brother practically taught himself how to play guitar online. Still, if I ever had any inkling of a dream of being on a professional stage doing something, that shot is long gone.

Do they have red carpet award shows for doctors?

A Texas Tradition Discontinued?

2011-11-09T12:36:00.001-08:00

I read this article this morning from the Houston Chronicle:

http://www.chron.com/news/politics/article/New-Braunfels-voters-uphold-container-ban-2259417.php

I'm thinking of this like the oil moratorium in the Gulf if Mexico and its affect on the state of Louisiana on a much smaller, local scale....

If the citizens of New Braunfels think this going to help their town, they could be sorely mistaken.

As for most of the problems in Texas this summer, blame can point a finger straight at the sky and it's unwillingness to rain. The severe drought kept tourists off the Guadalupe this summer. So they flocked to the Comal; I served witness as I did so myself. I actually visited both rivers. At the Guadalupe, there was a much smaller crowd (although I was there on a Sunday) and there were several stretches of river where my friends and I were forced to wade with our tubes to deeper waters. This was much different from my Guadalupe floats in the two previous years, which were easy and crowded, lined with residents offering keg stands, buzzing with floating stereos, and, as always, very fun. This year, my second trip to float the river ended up at the Comal, since I was with family who lives in New Braunfels. It was PACKED. We could hardly find parking, and had to pay $10 to get it. When we finally got in the river I can say that it was plenty fun and relaxing. We did run into some cops--not me, of course but we did see them hand out tickets to floaters participating in underage drinking or drug use. We carried a bag with us for trash and kept it in the cooler for safe-keeping. I was carded at the end of my float, showed that I was legal, and went on my merry way, with a sunburn and new memory under my belt--er, bikini. To me, this is how the rivers of Texas are meant to be enjoyed.

So the Comal was packed this year, and about 58% of the citizens of New Braunfels that make their residence on and near the river don't like it. They should bear in mind that this is an irregularity. Typically there is not nearly as much activity or litter on the Comal. But they've voted to ban disposable containers on both the Comal and the stretch of Guadalupe that runs through their town, now rendering it seemingly pointless (and even unsafe as floaters can no longer carry water bottles) for many to go tubing for the day. They're in for a different kind of drought--a drought of tourists, and that means a drought of revenue for local businesses that thrive on tourism from Schlitterbahn goers to river floaters every summer. The businesses outside the Comal river were selling parking this summer for $10 a car. PER CAR. I'd like to see the revenue they pulled in this summer as compared to previous summers. Better yet, I'd like to also see the revenue they earn in the summer versus the rest of the year. You think they're complaining? Of course not. (In fact, many local businesses are suing on the grounds that this violates state laws.) Because they know that without water and booze allowed on the river they are SOL. These won't be the only businesses affected--hotels, gas stations, eateries, bars, Gruene Hall, other minor tourist spots (like Natural Bridge Caverns), and more will be affected by this. What does that mean? Unemployment. Hey, isn't that our country's biggest problem today? Hmmm.... Well, if the people of New Braunfels are employed and their kids are unable to find summer jobs, pretty soon their entire town's GDP is falling. Then they're REALLY gonna whine. Property values will decline and businesses will close shop or move to more welcoming waters. Yup. It really seems like putting a stopper on floating the river is going to help New Braunfels. Come on, people. It's only about 3-4 months out of the year! And it's the sustainability of your cute little town!!

I DO care about the state of our Texas rivers and want them clean and preserved. So it's my responsibility as a Texan not to litter and to keep them clean, like I mentioned my friends and I did above. Easier said than done, I know, but perhaps regulations would both maintain the economy and keep the river clean "for the next generation." Hire MORE cops or city/river maintenance workers to keep the place clean and orderly (hey, more jobs!).

My argument is for employment and enjoyment. I can't blame the citizens of New Braunfels for wanting to keep the place they live clean and orderly, but if they want to remain living there with the kind of lifestyle they have now, they can't afford for tourism to decline. Your people are your greatest resource! How do you think the people in Vail, Colorado, Santa Monica, California, Orlando, Florida, or Washington, D.C. feel? They probably get annoyed with tourists, sure, but a lot of their jobs probably depend on the revenue brought in by those tourists. Funnily enough, I wonder how many New Braunfels citizens will be making vacations to "tourist" destinations this year... let's not be hypocrites.

Old Lady

2011-11-08T21:06:00.000-08:00

Holy CRAP.

Today it's just hit me. Six months from now, I will be graduating from college. COLLEGE. With a double-major degree in two disciplines that don't even go together. When did that happen? Seriously.... Not so long ago I had just graduated from high school. Yeesh.

Okay, so fast forward four years. Clearly, I've been in denial. This is partially attributable to Peter Pan-syndrome; I'm afraid of the future (like any human, generally afraid of the unknown), but at the same time I look forward to the things I hope to accomplish. However, they crept... excuse me, rushed... up behind me and now I'm faced with tasks that I may only barely be able to accomplish.

Really, THANK GOD I'm going to graduate school. I wouldn't know what to do with myself otherwise. I'm worried that someday I won't know how to function without school. Of course I say that, but I find myself in the middle of my most boring supply-chain management or anatomy classes wishing the rudimentary BS were all over. (Haha, get it? BS... I'm a nerd.) Lately my norm has been wishing to stay in bed all day and just watch TV while falling in and out of comfortable snoozes and creating meaningless Google queries and perusing pointless Twitter feeds. I don't do this; how could I? I'm too goal-oriented and over-involved.

Despite all this, I feel like adulthood drowning me. Wow, I sound so enthusiastic.... I'm not blind, I saw it coming. I've come to terms with some of it and enjoy a large part of it. Sometimes the responsibility sucks, sure, but could I imagine giving it up and going back to being under-the-thumb and parental rule I was subjected to just 4 years ago? Not only no, but HELL no. So I guess I could say the transformation is becoming more and more complete by the day.

So what is it exactly that makes you an adult? I'm coming up with a list. I use active voice because I'm coming up with these as I think of them. Therefore there is no hierarchical order, these are just trends in myself and my aging friends that I have noticed.

You're over superficiality. What happened to the popularity contest? Nobody cares how many MySpace (does that even exist anymore?) or Facebook friends you have anymore. But it's more than that. The petty crap annoys you. For example, I overheard some freshman talking about another girl I know the other day in the most condescending way, for reasons that had no effect on them or their lives whatsoever. I suppose this means growing up allows you to see beyond things that don't really matter. Good, because who really has time for extraneous information these days?
You FEEL old. Your joints hurt. You're tired ALL THE TIME. It's harder to stay in shape. Pretty soon I'm gonna need glasses and a cane. WHOA CHILL I'm just kidding. But really, I've noticed things that I only 2 years ago associated with old people. For example, I have noticed within only the last semester that I have a much easier time going to bed and getting up super early to complete assignments than I do staying up super late. I used to be completely opposite, able to complete assignments even if it took me until 4 in the morning. These days, I would give just about anything to be in bed before 12:30. Perhaps the most evident part of it is that I have no problem with any of this. Sooner or later I have to adopt normal sleeping habits....
You follow the news. All of the sudden the only two channels I watch are ESPN and FoxNews. When did that happen? Probably this semester. Classes got intriguing and required that I follow the news. Well, now it's actually interesting. Maybe it's because I now can put it into context and understand exactly how current events affect me. It's also decision-making time. Detrimental decision making time. I feel compelled to be in-the-know, or I'll fall behind in all that I want to accomplish later.
Your priorities have changed drastically. Okay, so school has always been my number one. However, rather than just being a measure of personal success, it's a means to and end. I'm only here now to get where I want to be later. School maintains precedence, even if for new reasons, but my other priorities have shuffled. I have this thing called a job. J-O-B. Yay. I think? I wait tables. Not great, but it pays the bills. (Wait, what? Bills?) This has taken priority of all those other things I used to be oh-so-committed to. Three years ago, being a student athlete, a member of FCA, the spirit committee, the Student-Athlete Advisory Committee, and participating in ever other little event I could squeeze onto a resume took precedence over everything. Now, all of these seem ...elementary? I'm not sure if that's the correct term for it. Regardless, I used to say "Oh, I have to go to a meeting for such-and-such group;" now, I say "I have to work." Which seems more qualified to employ the phrase "have to?" If I'm honest with myself those were all the things I wanted to do rather than what I had to do in order to support that ultimate means to an end. I could go on for days about how and why this happened and how I feel about it, but I digress....
You stop whining about responsibility. I remember when I used to complain about having to go the bank or the post office or the registrar's office, etc. It seemed like such a hassle. Today it's just everyday whatever. Oi, so much of this realizing what you have to do... and conceding to it....

That's all I have. I think it'd be interesting to get input from anyone who bothers to read this.... like on Twitter with a hash tag #uknowuroldwhen (<-- the "u" for "you" disgusts me but that's Twitter) or simply in the form of comments. I'm sure there are other more simple, not to mention funnier, reasons for feeling submerged in adulthood, whether you view this as good or bad.

So please, comment away!

Scars are souvenirs you never lose; the past is never far.

2011-07-27T23:10:00.001-07:00

Last Week
I'm watching Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part I and attempting to find inspiration of something to blog about. Perhaps I could just ramble.

Aha... there it is.

As for my last posting about falling in love. Ha. That's not to say that I was or wasn't "in love" with this guy. Let's just say watching everything falling apart and feeling everything slip through my fingers no matter how tightly I held on was...excruciating. Pardon my dramatic tone.

I'm not going to sit here and lament the fact that I've had my heart broken. It happens to everyone. In a way I almost hope it happens to everyone. When I was 17 my mother told me she hoped that one day I would have my heart broken. I gaped at her and naively retorted, "Oh, gee thanks for wishing that on me! Real motherly!" Like I said... naive. When you know love or even just the simple care for someone else you truly value it when it's gone. As a consequence you should be able to value and respect the next relationship you're in so much more. I know the first time I had my heart broken it made me understand just how special the next one was--especially since it turned out to be so short-lived.

Anyways enough of that because like I said, I won't sit here and cry over it [anymore] like all of the sappy "post-secret" tumblr blogs and Tweets and Facebook statuses. I've grown to be almost as irritated by those as I am by those updates that involve the phrase "my wonderful boyfriend did this" or "I love so-and-so more than anything!" I'm all about professing your love. But tell your love, not me.

[1:27 am ] Crap... now I don't want to write about what I was thinking about writing about anymore. I don't really remember what my point was. But I'll leave the stuff I already wrote as a follow-up.

[1:38 am] Okay, I need sleep and ideas. *Save draft* and I'll be back at it tomorrow.

August 1, 2011
Okay so it's not really tomorrow.

I was just looking for some things that I used in the past from classes I took like notes, old quizzes, and the like. I stumbled upon some things I never intended to. I have changed SO MUCH. I don't even have a feeling of nostalgia. I can't describe it. I'm really kind of sad. To think I was so innocently in love then so far from that in less than 6 months later just makes me even more scared to ever be in love again.

Hell, I'm scared of the future period. I have no idea what I'll be doing to sustain myself in the next year. I have this plan of going to medical school but right now I'm waiting for the bricks to fall into place on the path before me while I'm standing on the brink of nothingness. But I've always been afraid of the future.

I suppose the important thing is that I never let it keep me from making the right decisions and choices. So maybe if there was one thing you could gather from this posting, it would be to never let fear keep you from doing what you were meant to do. Whatever destiny you have chosen for yourself you have to go out and make. It takes courage.

[no title]

2011-02-25T14:21:00.000-08:00

I have a friend who has recently taken to blog posting almost every single day. I find her posts fascinating most of the time and I really feel like I know her better after reading each one.

I'm not sure why I'm not the kind of person who blogs on a daily basis. Perhaps I just feel like no one really cares enough to want to read what I have to think or say every day. Even if they do, I would feel like I have to come up with something interesting or profound every time I write. (This is why I would never be able to be a real writer, I think--I'm too worried that there is someone out there who won't like it.)

See? Even now I don't know what to say. I think I'm just bored.

Okay, I found a train of thought (it's pink and rather than steam it emits heart-shaped bubbles)... here we go.

How do you know if you're in love? How long do you have to be with a person before it can happen? Is there even an answer to this? I'm so frustrated by this. Hollywood will tell you that it can happen in a single look or after a single encounter. My Dad will tell you this too--he knew he wanted to marry my mother the minute she walked into the place he met her. This is kind of ridiculous, because I think it took my mother much longer to fall in love with him. Still, they've been married 25 years now so love obviously is still there for them. My life experience has told me it kind of varies--some people fall in love in a month, some 6 months, some a year.... Some people are quick and decide that even the smallest amount of emotion beyond "liking" someone is love while others don't even realize they're in love until it's too late or at least almost too late. So how do you know when you're in love?

Maybe my whole issue isn't a matter of "when." Perhaps it's a matter of "what" love is. As in, how do I know when I am in love. I know I've loved someone before, I know it. But then it kind of just... died. How does that even happen? The thought is petrifying. Can that just happen?? People change, sure... but isn't love supposed to surpass all of that? Maybe I wasn't in a "deep" love. Okay, so that relationship is over, but what about other relationships, new ones? I know what love feels like it, but I don't think I would recognize it if it slapped me in the face. I feel like I started from scratch on this one--seriously I feel like I wouldn't know whether I was in love or not. Maybe I am? But no, it's too soon isn't it? Perhaps it's just powerful, deep infatuation--which is probably even more intoxicating and dangerous. Can't I just have an epiphany to know whether I am or not? Someone just tell me!

I think maybe I am having the first inklings of it. Maybe. Sometimes I worry if I'm the type of person who just falls in love with every person she is ever with--DANGEROUS. (Being a caring person can screw you, you know.) The thing is, I think love is a journey. I think you can fall in love instantly, sure--but not into the kind of love it takes to commit your life to. I mean, I wouldn't say yes to a proposal tomorrow, no sir. But I think if he dropped the ILY I would return it. (This is why I refuse to say it first--I'm too unsure... and maybe scatterbrained.) I think it will grow. I think that if I really do love a person I will love them to whatever degree I'm meant to--whether it be just the first inklings of it for a month or two, or the perpetual, end-all be-all of loves.

Now if I were listening to someone ranting and raving about all this like a panicked blonde in a romantic comedy, my advice to them would be to just go with it. I am the kind of person who tells everyone that "everything happens for a reason." And I'm not b.s.-ing here; I DO have that faith, I do. But like most people I would do well to take my own advice. To step outside my brain for a minute and look at my thoughts objectively. So, I will, indeed, "just go with it" and keep my faith that "everything happens for a reason," believing that I will be happy no matter what happens in the next few months, years, lifetimes.... But I feel better now.

2010-07-18T20:52:00.000-07:00

Even if you do not know me very well, you arrived at this blog posting for a reason. I believe this.

I have Faith. A Faith that leads me to believe the cliche that "everything happens for a reason" and that there is an ultimate plan that has already been drawn out for us. This Faith also leads me to reason that the people in our lives are there for a reason as well. Every person we know, meet, or even simply see passing us by does so for a reason.

As a human being I feel that I have an obligation to be everything I can to these people--everything they need me to be for them. Whether that be a friend, an acquaintance, someone to go out with, a reference, someone to tip your hat to on the street, or anything more or less important. I feel like if I ignore them or am not everything they need me to be I am doing them a disservice and even trying fate. I'm an all-or-nothing kind of person. So I do my best to open the floodgates and let people into my life as the Lord would lead them to me.

This requires a lot of listening. It demands honesty.

God has brought me to a few key people that are in my life--or perhaps he has brought them to me. Regardless, I feel as though these people need me; at the same time I need them. A lot of times people just need someone to listen or even have a sort of presence. I want to be that for them. Simultaneously I learn from them and because of them I appreciate my life and everything that has always been easy or gone right or simply fallen into place. Each of them has bigger mountains to climb than I feel like I've ever been faced with. For that I am grateful to the Lord, and therefore I ask Him to help me be a leg-up for them in any way they need. These few persons have become my friends in unorthodox ways--I never would have predicted being as close as I am to any of them. But that's exactly why I keep my doors open.

Open doors allows for anyone and everyone to come and go as they please. The same people who once seem so important may be ushered out in time because you have been everything you can to that person. And then there are those who will be with you forever. Those are a select and gifted few. But how would you ever know who those people could be if you didn't let them in in the first place?

I find it curious that what I have pondered and written reminds me of my favorite Bible verse. It is a passage I choose to live by.

Matthew 5:14-16:

¹⁴"You are the light of the world. A city set on a hill cannot be hidden. ¹⁵Men do not light a lamp and then put it under a bushel basket. They set it on a stand where it gives light to all in the house. ¹⁶In the same way, your light must shine before men so that they may see goodness in your acts and give praise to your heavenly Father."

The Road Not Taken

2010-03-24T21:46:00.000-07:00

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth.

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same.

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference. --Robert Frost, 1915

I find myself at a crossroads.

I found solace in this poem while walking through the rain today.

Perhaps solace is not the correct word to use here, because I find myself more befuddled and indecisive after reading and rereading it since I first was reminded of it.

I do not call myself a rogue, a maverick, or someone that strives to be different. The only thing I can say is that I try to be myself; I have to believe that myself is unique from other persons' selves. So therefore I cannot say that I will follow suit to every man, woman or child that has been inspired by this poem and take the road less traveled by.

Readers assume that the final line commits Frost to be at peace with his path. Who is to say that this "difference" is good, bad, or ugly? To me, this final statement is quite the contrary--it seems rather ominous. It is for this reason that I am all the more intimidated and confounded by the fork that lies before me.

I suppose if I were to determine an answer for the question "Why are we here?", it would be to make decisions. While there is a path set before us, we are allowed the decisions to deviate or follow the righteous path. Our decisions are like the punches in our ticket to heaven. These decisions were not meant to be easy or obvious. Frost saw no sign that pointed him to either road.

So I must conclude that I do not find any solace whatsoever in Frost's poem. Ironically, his path of words directs me right back to where I started. I find that Frost merely states that the path you choose leads you to your fate. It's almost sarcastic in that it's common sense and offers no help or direction at all. I cannot scorn Frost, however, because he humbly admits being as human as the rest of us.

Now I can choose the road besotted with tracks and ruts or that of an inviting unrolled carpet of soft earth, but I cannot stare at this fork forever. The message I gather from Frost is that I must take that first step, no matter where it leads me, to make any difference at all.

Fishers of Men

2010-02-26T10:47:00.001-08:00

This is a message that was shared between a friend of mine that I was very close to in my sophomore year of high school. She shared interest in going to church with me sometime because she was intrigued by my relationship with Christ and being in the Catholic church. Although we got distanced after that year we are still friends and she is now becoming Catholic as well. It is one of my missions in life to be a Fisher of Men as Jesus called us to do, and this news brought me tears of joy. I was more than happy to answer the questions she had for me.

From Alix:

Howdy guys!
As many of you know I’m going to receive 2 sacraments (baptism and first communion) during the Easter Vigil at St. Mary’s. This has been something I’ve been discerning over for many years. I’m at a loss of words of how excited and just blessed I feel. I’ve been in RCIA classes for 2 semesters now and it has really open up a whole new world to me. I’ve gotten many questioned answered and have found peace with understanding I can’t understand everything (if that makes sense). But on that note I have a few questions I want to pose to my Catholic brothers and sisters. Please feel free to answer some, all, or even none of the questions. I will be the only one viewing the responses.
Questions:
1.What lead you to the Catholic Church?
2.Are you a cradle Catholic or a convert?
3.How did you choose your Saint name?
4.What is the hardest concept, theory, or ideology taught in the Catholic Church for you to understand/grasp?
5.In hard times what prayer do you find most comforting?
6.If you go to St. Mary’s, is there a Father or someone that works at the church that you have found to be easy to connect to?
7.Has there been a defining moment in your faith walk that has lead to closer to God?
8.Favorite form of worship
9.What did you give up for lent?
10.If you pray daily, do you find a particular time to be best?
11.And lastly, do you have any good advice or words of wisdom
Thanks you for time!

From Me:

Alix,

First I want to tell you congratulations. I am beyond words and almost in tears of happiness for you. I always hoped this day would come for you, and now that it has I am ecstatic for you and I feel like maybe, just maybe, I fulfilled part of my Catholic Christian promise to be a Fisher of Men in taking even the smallest part in helping you find a relationship with Christ.

1. I was baptized Catholic before I could even retain memories. It was my parents' gift to me to be absolved of Original Sin and to initiate me as a member of the Church. Some say that this is taking that choice away from me. However, I have been in love with being Catholic for quite some time. I can tell you that I really felt my love for Christ and His love within me when I was in high school, around the time I started studying for Confirmation. Everything I had been learning while being raised Catholic was starting to make sense and fall into place. Being Catholic was not only emotionally and spiritually drawing to me but also logically. I am Catholic because the Catholic Church is the church that Jesus built on Peter, his rock. Catholic means "universal," and to me it encompasses everything I believe and love.
2. I am a cradle Catholic! However my journey with Christ is also one of choice. I was not required to be Confirmed but I was because my Creed is that of the Catholic Church, defined by the Apostles. Many protestants speak of being "saved." I have a similar experience, but it's not the same. I always knew Christ and had Christ within me thanks to my baptism, so I never had to "find" him perse. I embraced my relationship with Christ, my life as a Christian, and his love within me when I was in high school. To me this is the the Catholic analogy to being "saved."
3. I chose my Saint, Saint Elizabeth, Mary's cousin, based on the Saint my father has always prayed to for me. He prays to her for me, to Mary for my mother, to Saint Michael for my sister, and to Saint Augustine for my brother. I always have felt a special connection with her for that reason. Many people I know choose based on what the Saint is a patron of.
4. Perhaps the hardest idea for me to grasp is the idea that the bread we eat and the wine we drink is indeed the Body and Blood of Christ. It is very abstract in nature and takes the utmost faith to truly believe. I do believe it is so, but I feel like experiencing an Adoration of the Blessed Sacrament would really broaden my understanding of the concept.
5. The Hail Mary is the prayer I turn to most. Because I am female, I feel that if anyone could connect to my emotions and feelings it's Mary. Ever since I knew the prayer I have been saying it in all my times of trouble, whether it be a bad dream, fear, or sadness. There is a song for the prayer as well, which I find truly beautiful. If I ever need solace, I turn to Mary. The prayer encompasses forgiveness, revelry, and the entirety of my life.
6. I do not go to Saint Mary's, but I find that in my home parish, Sacred Heart, it is easy to talk to Deacon Billy Guerrero. Whenever I find it is also helpful to get many perspectives, so I usually approach my family. My mother, father, grandmother, cousins, aunts, and everyone are all on different parts of their journeys as Catholics and are there whenever I need.
7. I can't remember a defining moment, but there was a point in my life when I realized I was truly overjoyed to go to church and be in the House of God. Every prayer after that seemed to mean so much more. Sometimes though, I feel like this revelation came with age. When I was younger I still had a deep relationship with God. I prayed all the time and I believed even then that God would give me anything I would ask for as long as it was His will. There are many small miracles in my life that I believe are directly related to prayer.
8. My favorite form of worship would have to be song--the traditional hymns you usually hear in traditional Catholic Churches. It doesn't matter how horrible my singing voice is, I have no fear in belting out Amazing Grace, Ave Maria, O Holy Night, the Hail Mary song, Gather Us In, On Eagle's Wings, and every other song I grew up singing.
9. I gave up overindulgences for Lent. As you remember I have an addiction to Sonic! It was so bad I started going about 4-6 times a week and was basically throwing away money. So for Lent I gave up having so many Sonic drinks, if any, shopping (which I do way too much of), and going out in general (like to eat, etc.).
10. I pray mostly before I go to bed. It's my time to clear my head, review my day, and make sure I'm living the way Christ wants me to live. At the same time it helps me sleep easier. However, I also pray whenever I need to, especially during games or when I need more patience. Even reading a verse is a form of prayer--any time you are deepening or experiencing your relationship with God is prayer. The entirety of Mass is a prayerful state. I feel like it would be silly to only have one designated time for prayer, so I like to whenever I feel like I need a little spiritual boost :)
11. The advice that I can offer is the advice my mother gives me any time I need confidence. I also remind myself of it whenever I feel like I need to realign myself on the Path of God and be a Christian example to others.
"You are the light of the world. A city set on a mountain cannot be hidden. Nor do they light a lamp and then put it under a bushel basket; it is set on a lampstand, where it gives light to all in the house. Just so, your light must shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your heavenly Father." Matt 5:14-16.

Sorry it took me a few days to get back to you! I really wanted to sit down and write really good, meaningful answers for each question. Best wishes and God Bless!

Haley

Home.

2009-12-11T19:50:00.000-08:00

Today, I have had this enormous and insatiable desire to go home. It's not the location, it's the people and the environment they create. I want to be in my house, where it's warm and there's a sort of happy yet calming glow about its rooms.

I want to be with my mother, who will take care of me but keep me humble and remind me that I have responsibilities to my family. There is a special connection between mother and child; I feel like I am still her baby, and that's something I want to be.

I want to be with my father, who spoils me rotten with everything I need and most of what I want, and whose relentless attempts at teasing humor and ridiculous jokes offer relief for the tension and stress that inhabit every day. He makes sure I don't take myself too seriously.

I want to be with my sister, whose sarcasm keeps me on my toes. Our conversations span the spectrum--we cover everything from ignorant gossip to thought-provoking discussions on literature and film and why people are inspired to create such things.

I want to be with my brother, who's always ready for a game. I need to share his energy. He is so resourceful and clever, absorbing himself in the most unique and thoughtful projects. His creativity astonishes me; he's unlike any other boy I have met.

This could have something to do with the fact that lately I have felt exhausted and wary. It could be that I feel like I am not living up to the expectations I have for myself. Regardless of my reasons, I need to be in that place. Even if I do not speak or move, I need to have its warmth surrounding me.

The Perfectionist.

2009-12-10T16:44:00.000-08:00

When I was a kid, I was always the one that finished her assignments last. It wasn't because I was stupid or didn't know what I was assigned to do or anything; it was mostly because I had this perfectionist complex that wouldn't allow me to complete anything without checking and re-checking or tweaking and perfecting it.

This problem (if you can call it a problem, to me it's more of a trait) climaxed twice (as it did many times) in first grade. In the first incident we were writing a personal narrative about the circus. It was a rather large project that we were given at least two weeks to complete. We were required to write a rough draft, proofread it multiple times, and eventually complete a final copy--which only turned out to be about a page total, if that, but for a second grader it seemed like quite a task. For the final project as a whole we also had to color illustrations and particularly a very detailed front cover printed with the face of your typical circus clown (come on, you gotta make it fun for the kiddies somehow, right?). It was impressed upon us that making this front cover as aesthetically pleasing and enticing as possible was a crucial part of the grade. Our teacher even gave examples of enticing children's books that we could sort of imitate.

So here was my first grade self, literally believing that I needed to put intense amounts of effort into the cover alone so that I could make it look as much like an Eric Carl cover as any second grader with any type of artistic talent could. While most of my peers finished coloring their clowns in unoriginal ways with rainbow hair outside the lines, typical white make-up and red nose and exaggerated smile, I was determined to make mine unique and as professional-looking as a page out of a first-grade teacher's manual can get. Needless to say this took me more than two class periods to complete, which was much more than the allotted time had originally been. My teacher was frustrated with me and encouraged me to move on so that I could complete the actual writing part of my assignment. So when I was finally pleased with my cover (although I still found it imperfect), I moved on to finish filling my final draft in the booklet that was encased in said cover. Thanks to my use of exceeding amounts of time on coloring, I was unable to finish filling in my final copy. This ended in tears and a less-than-perfect grade (I got a B instead of an A, since apparently the coloring was worth less than I had thought). So although I had misinterpreted my teacher in thinking the coloring was the most important part of the grade, I still let my perfectionism get the better of me.

This happened once again later in the year in math. We were doing two-digit subtraction and I just didn't seem to have a knack for it. Either I had missed the lesson or just plain couldn't comprehend the idea of borrowing ones from the tens' place. When the two-digit subtraction test grades were returned I immediately burst into tears. It was the first test I had ever failed, and I was appalled and ashamed. I got a 41, and felt like I would have to remain in the first grade forever. My mother was even called over my hysterics. It was arranged that I would stay for the afternoon after school to receive some individual tutoring. It only took me that afternoon to really learn it, and they let me retake the test for an A, but once again I had allowed my innocent cravings for perfection determine my emotional state in life.

I say the emotional state of my life; this seems dramatic for a child, but I never knew any different--I always expected perfection from myself because my grades so constantly reflected that. I had straight A's until I took algebra in the 7th grade. That is why I call it innocent.

But however innocent and admirable that I strove to do the best I could do, expecting total perfection is detrimental to one's psyche, considering that such is impossible. I became too hard on myself for anything less than as close to perfection as possible. It was counter-productive and anti-beneficial to achieving the goals I had for myself.

It was something I have been working on getting over for quite some time. College studies have been quite humbling. Perfection is, indeed, impossible. Yet I have also learned something much bigger. Life is not all about having the perfect marks or even being the best at something. It's what you get out of what you're doing. If you're the best in your class at calculus, but hate math, where are you? Are you really happy? Sure, you may be pleased with yourself, but unless you have some sort of devilish superiority complex I doubt even being the best at something you hate will make you happy.

I have to stop seeking perfection. I have to stop trying to be the best, and strive to do my best. I will seek happiness, and try to truly enjoy what I get out of everything I do. If that means accepting a less-than-appealing grade in organic chemistry but truly enjoying the activities I'm involved in or even finding a smidge of time to relax, I'll take it. Life isn't about being THE BEST or being PERFECT, it's about being happy.

The Tooth Fairy

2009-12-05T10:55:00.001-08:00

I just recalled a dream I had when I was very young to two of my friends, so I have decided to share it because it is quite humorous and reflective of my childhood.

I was about 5 or 6 years old. I had just lost my first tooth pretty recently at my Grandmother's house after she pulled it out by force (don't worry, the tooth had been so loose I didn't feel a thing). I had had this incredible fear of my teeth being pulled and had actually managed to let the new adult tooth grow in behind the baby tooth. So naturally my teeth were crooked (they had been crooked in the first place because my mouth was very small to begin with).

I went to the dentist's office to have one of my teeth removed so that they could determine my need for orthodontia. They removed the small tooth and gave it to me so I could put it under my pillow for the tooth fairy.

That night I placed the tooth carefully under my pillow in a little baggy. As I was sleeping I began to dream about what special things the tooth fairy may bring me since the tooth had been so uniquely removed. I fully expected something spectacular rather than your average trade of a dollar.

So, I dreamed that I woke up with a huge booklet of coupons for FREE PIZZA from Dominos. I was not disappointed by this; my 6-year-old self was obviously craving pizza and would give her teeth to have an unlimited lifetime supply of it. Delicious.

Obviously, you can probably deduce that this dream did not come true. However, I did receive something rather spectacular. I got a really pretty Barbie dressed in a purple blouse and festive skirt. I hadn't ever had a brand new Barbie, because mine had been hand-me-downs from my older cousins. Needless to say I was still very excited, and my mother ended up ordering me a pizza for dinner.

Inspired by a Dream:: First Blog :)

2009-11-03T14:58:00.001-08:00

So, I have toyed with the idea of creating a blog for quite some time now.... several months actually....

However, today I was particularly inspired to do so by a ridiculous dream that I had while taking what I like to call an "Hour of Power" nap between Biology and Physics II classes. The nap really only lasted about 45 minutes this time, but somehow I managed to dream this incredibly absurd story....

We were told by some local judge that we would be required by law to clean and get rid of a murdered body. It wasn't punishment for anything, but I feel like we (we being me, a close friend, and others who I cannot recall) have been bystanders or had seen the murder when it happened.

For some reason, I, Caitlin (the close friend), and the others were staying at the presently vacated house of my former teammate, Emily. You could tell it was her house only because one of the bedrooms had her name and pictures of her on the door. One small poster had her large portrait and the word "INITIATION" on it--she had been welcomed to the Texas Tech softball team almost as if it were a sorority....

The house was very large, almost mansion-like but not quite. You could tell the family was well endowed. The entrance included an over-sized oak door with a decorative glass pane inside; the door was surrounded by a French-style parallel panel window on each side and a large arc window above it and decorative molding all the way around. The door was set in a red brick entry way with a large funnel-shaped set of stairs leading down to the path. Inside the entry were lots of lights in a chandelier that glowed gold when the outdoors was dark. Directly to the right as you enter the house there was a robust set of stairs that curved up to the second floor. The second floor landing was almost like a Victorian-esque balcony over the first floor den. The floor went around the perimeter of the landing and the bedrooms were all on one side. Emily's room was on the far left, and there were about four more to its right for her many younger sisters. The room I was occupying was on the far right, and had its own bathroom.

The body had been carelessly dumped here on the bathroom floor. Looking at it I could never get a clear view of the face, but somehow I knew it was male and his identity was of no importance or relevance to the ensuing events. He had been wearing navy wind pants and a burgundy wind breaker. There were many gaping holes through which you could see the mangled cadaver. You could tell the death was not recent. The skin looked severely burned and mostly dry with a dark pinkish-red color, almost as if the dead muscle had been exposed to the air for too long. It was unhealthy, almost skeletal. It was as if the people who had left it there had just dragged the body on the sheets he was killed on. A knife lay beside it, but it wasn't sharp or bloody. Both the butter knife and the body were covered in grape jelly. The first thought that came to my mind upon picking up the knife was that prior to his murder the man must have (however innocently, I don't know) making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich....

I was disturbed by the knife and was still holding on to it when I went downstairs to find someone to accompany and help me. I found them, including Caitlin, who I would have preferred as company, in the kitchen. They seemed to be making themselves at home there surrounded by the glorious marble counter tops and luxurious bowls of fruits and breads. Seeing as the owners were not home, it was an odd scene and I was further disturbed.

I didn't really gather much response and went back to the bathroom in my troubled state. When I got there, the body had been spliced in half at the hips. There was no blood anywhere. I ran to the top of the stairs to yell down to Caitlin to see if she knew what had happened. Before I could get the words out, I saw several unknown and curiously dressed people dragging the body down the stairs on my own pink sheets. I didn't know whether to stop them or not.... I yelled and screamed at them, pleading to know what they were doing and where or why they were taking the body. Finally one of them, and ash-covered boy in his teens that resembled a chimney sweeper, answered that "It was not my job to do; my turn was over; it was their turn to take the body." It didn't feel right....

I rushed down the stairs and Caitlin came rushing in and tried to grab one of them as they were about to leave through the oak door. She had a grasp on one of them until they fell, or rather disappeared through, the solid door. A final female one of the ghost-like people was left in the entry way holding the jelly-covered knife. She was dressed almost like a doll, with a childlike Cherub face and a small pink dress. I grabbed her and pushed her to the floor. I could tell I had hurt her feelings and immediately pitied the thing. Then, it was as if she was crying; her face became a watery-looking blur--it was as if i was looking at her reflection in a pond. I helped her to her feet out of pity, and watched her disappear through the door. The last glance I got through the window pane in the door was of one of the older people who had come back for the doll-girl. This one was wearing a white blouse and red cloak, and happened to be my high school Calculus teacher....

Feel free to analyze and comment :)