Sunday, April 29, 2007

She is eight years-old. Perfect braids, perfect dresses, perfect grades. She's never the smartest in the class, never the prettiest, never the most popular. She has friends. Many actually. No one actually dislikes her, but nobody calls her their favorite. She had memories of one who did. But she was gone. Probably never see her again. She liked sports. She got discouraged though because she was never the best. Always second place. She is fifteen years-old. She still isn't a favorite. She has two people who are her favorites. But they have others who they consider their favorite. Around her, girls are getting boyfriends. Boys don't see her. She thinks they do, but then they see her friends. She's always second best. She is sixteen years-old. She no longer has perfect hair. It's short and curly and difficult. She doesn't have any friends here. The people don't like her. They refuse to get to know her. She's not even second best anymore. She is seventeen years-old. She found friends. She's doesn't know how it happens, but suddenly she's happy. And yet she's not. She can't remember how to be herself. She's afraid they suddenly won't like her anymore. Her friend is gone, suddenly forever. She never got to say good-bye. Her friends here are supportive and she knows she's loved. She's almost happy again and she turns eighteen.

Thursday, April 26, 2007


Wake Me Up
by Norah Jones

Wake me up when it's over,
Wake me up when it's done,
When he's gone away and taken everything,
Wake me up.

Wake me up when the skies are clearing,
When the water is still,
'cause I will not watch the ships sail away so,
Please say you will.

If it were any other day,
This wouldn't get the best of me.

But today I'm not so strong,
So lay me down with a sad song,
And when it stops then you know I've been,
Gone too long.

But don't shake me awake,
Don't bend me or I will break,
Come find me somewhere between my dreams,
With the sun on my face.

I will still feel it later on,
But for now I'd rather be asleep.

Friday, April 20, 2007

We're leaving for Neosho, Mo in about twenty minutes. Thought I'd say...

Wednesday, April 18, 2007

Why doesn't such a tragedy shock me as much as it should? I'm deeply saddened and devastated, but I'm aware of what human beings are capable of. The preacher's wife who killed her husband. The multiple school shootings this year. Columbine. And now 33 people are dead at Virginia Tech. It's the largest shooting in the history of the United States. News reports are calling it the "massacre at Virginia Tech". This type of killing has become unfortunately normal. Everytime something like this happens, we say we'll learn from it. We say changes need to be made to gun control laws. We say we'll remember to help the people we overlook; the people who kill in this desperate way. We never do. We use it as a point of reference once the next shooting happens. We don't remember to invite the angry loner to the party. Bottom line-we remember the tragedy; we don't remember the lesson.

I know, I know. I'm cynical.

Thursday, April 12, 2007

Life as a college student is stressful! I think my roommate and I know that better than anyone else right now. Maybe we rely too much on last minute ideas and staying up late to finish things. Whatever the reason, it's still stressful!

Last night, my roommate had a speech to write and I had to write a very detailed outline for my English research paper that I hadn't started. From 10:00 until 2:00, I was alternating between punching holes for Crista's "shoes" and writing my outline. Crista had to do her speech on something to teach elementary students so she decided to teach kindergarteners how to tie their shoes. Once I had finished half of my outline, I decided I should go to sleep. It was 2:00 a.m. Crista still had to actually write her eight minute speech so she stayed awake. She finished typing her outline for her speech and saved it to her computer. Her computer then shut down. About the time she had to restart her computer, I suddenly woke up because I thought my alarm clock had gone off. It was only 3:30 a.m. She explained her complications and I went back to sleep. She never got her speech outline printed out the next morning and I didn't finish my outline in time for class.

Life is stressful.

Tuesday, April 10, 2007

My roommate's mom spoke in chapel today. My mom cried. I love that she cried.

I love that I don't feel like I have to keep my emotions to myself. I can cry in a movie or when someone's speaking just because that's how I feel.

I know people who come from families who discourage crying. They're told it's a sign of weakness and it saddens me to think that they grew up like that. I'm definitely a crier like my mom. I cry just when there is too much of one emotion in me. I cry when I'm mad. I cry when I'm frustrated. I cry when I'm embarrased. I cry when I'm tired. It's just a natural reaction for me.

Tuesday, April 03, 2007

Watching the towns pass by on the drive from Abilene to Lubbock, I realized something about how I see poverty; it never ceases to devastate me, but I always expect to see it. We live in a world where we know poverty exists. How can we not? With constant images of children in Africa and Asia who are dying from malnutrition, we are not allowed to forget them. I'm not saying it's wrong to raise awareness of poverty in third world countries. As one the of wealthiest nations in the world, we should help those countries that are less developed than we are. It's when we overlook the fact that poverty exists here at home that we go wrong. Before we start telling people how to fix their own countries, we need to look at ourselves and find what's wrong with us. Driving past houses that are collapsing in on themselves, trailers, and dilapitated apartment buildings is normal for any town or city in America. I hate it and I wish people would at least pay attention.