No matter what...we choose to see what we want to see

All of my life I have been taught to make choices. What college should I go to? Who should I play with? What should I eat? What should I read? Where should I go? Everyday holds a million choices to pontificate.

However, there is one crucial choice that I am only just beginning to grasp.

It is the choice to see.

I have grown up, for much of my life, in white suburbia. I have seen the houses my friends live in and the private school we all attended. There are buildings everywhere, a mall just fifteen minutes away, restaurants galore and shopping centers on every corner. There are very few homeless people roaming Temecula.

I have seen the upper middle class, and that is what I know. The issues and problems of the upper-middle class are all I have been exposed to and while I have learned about the poor, homeless, and destitute in school and the news, those "others" always seemed far away--in another land and maybe even another time.

I have been forced, recently, to choose to look outside of myself and my world--college will do that to you, reading will do that to you. And what I have found astonishes me.

I am naturally fascinated with people's stories. But stories of people less fortunate who live in shacks or shelters, stories of kids playing on the streets near crack houses and in abusive homes, these stories go beyond fascination to down right anger, sorrow, and sadness.

Stories of men and women being deported when they have grown up right here in Califronia their whole lives makes me wonder at the safe little life I live and it makes me want to help in some way--any way.

My family has become close with our cleaning lady over the past couple of years. Liz arrived here with very little English, but has gradually picked it up and she is doing wonderfully; her little boy Carlitos plays with us and helps his mother clean-he is absolutely adorable.

But Liz's husband, Carlos, who came to the U.S. when his country was in the middle of a civil war, was accepted with open arms, and has made the U.S. his home for the past twenty plus years, is being forced to go to court because of the recent deportation laws. If the court decides to deport him, he will be taken directly from court to a boat and won't even have the opportunity to say goodbye to his family.

What is our country coming too that we not only do not take care of our own citizens in the city slums--those who are living in boxes and in shacks, but also those that, just like our forefathers, came to us from other countries and lands out of desperation and in hope of finding a new life? What is this nation going to do about the thousands of people who aren't being protected the way that they should?

But like me, so many of us choose what we want to see in this life, and it is hard waking those around us up from a deep sleep of ignorance.

It is my mission to wake the sleeping giants of this world so that we may all have eyes to see. May I never forget to keep looking, writing, praying and doing everything I can for my neighbor.

No matter what...there will always be someone worse off than me.

I have shingles!

Yes it's known as an old person disease.

Yes you get it from too much stress.

Yes it lasts anywhere from 2-4 weeks.

It's the week before finals. I had just two more weeks and I was home free. I am now in a world of pain and stuck with papers, projects, and finals to study for. I am at the point where I just want to give up, but I won't because my grades and transcripts mean too much to me (it's ridiculous I know).

But regardless of the fact that I am struggling through these final weeks of school let's look further into the future at my favorite time of year, Christmas time.

Christmas time is amazing because of the cookies and friends and carols and relaxation and kisses under the misseltoe. My Christmas time will be without kisses, without late nights of fun with friends, and without relaxation because I will still be trying to recover from my disease.

It is all just so sad to me.

The one bright spot in the holidays that I am looking forward to is being able to talk face to face with my best friend for the first time in four months.

I am sorry if I am a downer and depressing everyone, but this is what I feel. I can't escape it and I refuse to pretend everything is okay just so I can write a happy blog.

But what is really sad is among this misery of mine I am reminded for the first time in months of the misery of others. I am forced to think, "Oh my gosh, what if this was my life all year round?" or "What if I didn't even have a home to go home to and I was this sick?"

It's amazing to me how caught up I get in everything that I am doing and how great I feel when things are good in my life. It's like if things are good for me the whole world must be doing great, and it's not until I'm miserable that I finally have compassion for all of the thousands of others who are miserable too.

My head is pounding through my skull, my eyes are swollen (half from crying and half from the pain), my arm and chest are killing me, and my stomach is nauseated. I have a ten page paper to write tonight and so I must go, but I leave you with this thought: "Whatever you are going through, think of someone who has it worse and pray for them."

No matter what...on campus is for homework, classwork, and daydreaming?

APU is a quiet place at night. There aren’t many people who venture out of their apartments to go on campus unless they have a paper to write or research to do in the library.

Most would rather stay as far as possible from the place where they work and that is what campus often reminds us of –work. Either the work we do in the classrooms on campus or the homework we need to do for those classes—all of which is work that we are quick to put off and ignore for more exciting things off campus.

Being on campus, we are reminded of the endless mind-numbing homework due the following day or week. So unless we are freshmen or actually doing work at the library, most of us APUians don’t venture back onto campus late at night (after classes).

However, there are always those nights when homework calls out, and, no matter how hard we try, there is no silencing that nagging voice. We have to do homework. It is due the next day, and while we could stay up all night or get up at the crack of dawn to complete it, we know that the prospect of sleep is far more appealing.

But it is on these evenings when we do venture out of our comfortable apartments and back onto campus that we are witnesses to the community life of that wacky group of people known as freshmen. The freshmens’ attempt to create friendships that first year combined with a sudden immense amount of freedom creates awkward and hilarious situations that every upper classman loves to see.

I was privy to one of these situations one night as I sat studying outside the library, sipping my hot tea, and eating my lemon turnover. I was attempting to get some of my work done, but more easily daydreaming about the upcoming weekend when some voices came to my attention.

“Would you like a ride?” He said laughing with another freshman.

“No thank you,” said a woman, as she and her friends returned the giggle.

I turned around in my seat to see what all of the commotion was and there I saw them. I almost laughed out loud myself. A freshman male stood before me, holding on to an obviously stolen grocery store shopping cart. His female companion, also a freshman, sat inside, a true Vanna White displaying, in all her glory, the fun of riding a shopping cart to and from the dormitories. Together the pair called out to strangers, “where are you going” and “we’ll take you wherever you want, come on, it’s better than walking.”

Eventually the two found a couple of random women who decided to take the silly duo up on their offer and get a ride back to their dorms. Once all three women were settled, very uncomfortably, and the man was deemed as the “pusher” they were off, although rather slower than they had all imagined.

Every now and then I think back on that night when I was interrupted from my procrastination, and I wonder whatever happened to the two shopping cart thieves and their victims. When I go back there to study, I find myself daydreaming that they all became friends and lived happily-ever-after to give rides forevermore to strangers that come by for coffee or upperclassmen who return to campus to do research papers, and I smile.

I think to myself, maybe I should come here more often. Maybe, by being off campus, we upperclassmen are missing out on something—some of that hilarity that made life as a freshman so exciting. But then I always see those classrooms in the background of that perfect picture, and the homework that I am reminded of erases any such thoughts from my mind ,and all I can think is, “I have to get off campus.”

No matter what...question for republican candidates

No matter what...life will go on....

I can hear Celine Dion singing now, "My heart will go on...."

Only I change the words to "My LIFE will go on...."

Right now all I can see is my horrible homework life--mounds of homework sit in front of me--this is my Everest. I have a ten page paper due on Thursday, a ten page paper due next Tuesday, an article and three page paper due tomorrow, a presentation tomorrow and a presentation on Thursday, not to mention the projects and finals to study for. Yes, homework is my life for the next three weeks.

Right now it seems like life won't ever be free of mounds of homework, and consequently, mounds of stress too.

But every now and then I take a deep breath and realize..."my Life will go on"...that is my mantra, and I will sing it loudly everytime I feel the cold hands of dread squeezing the life out of this little body of mine.

No matter what...Christmas magic begins at home.

Christmas time, like my birthday, is a favorite time of mine. My house is beautiful at Christmas time. My mom and dad have been married for twenty five years and have acquired through those twenty-five years a lot of Christmas decorations. We have wreaths and trees, snowmen and santas, nativity and stockings galore. My house is like Santa's workshop.

My mom and dad put up the tree today and it looks beautiful shining from just inside the big entryway window. The garland wrapped around the stairs is one of my favorites, it just seems so dressy.

Red and white candy cane lights are attached to the roof and windows outside and a nativity set shines from behind the porch.

Upon entering the house it smells of hot cinnamon apple cider and home cooked food. A big rug with Santa on it hangs from the top of the stairs and homemade crafts and pictures grace the tables, windows and walls of the house everywhere.

My mom even has Christmas soap and handtowels. We change the pictures throughout the house to Christmas paintings my grandmother made or tapestries my aunt sewed together decades ago. My mom sets up candy dishes around the house that hold candy canes and m&ms.

Huge wreaths hang over each of the four big open windows in the family room and the stockings are hung on the mantel just below the snowman statues.

Snowballs (the cookies) sit in Christmas tins on the counter and chocolate chip and sugar cookies bake in the oven.

The house holds magic in that wintry season and I can't wait to return home and find that magic in a few weeks...oh it seems like so long from now.

No matter what...she deserves the job.

Recently my mother applied for a job at APU--to work in the graduate program. My mom is a psychologist, and a woman who got straight "A"s throughout her bachelors, masters, and doctorate programs. Not only that, but she then went on to apply to and be accepted at the leading, best paying, competitive internship and fellowship at Patton State Hospital. She now has her own practice where she treats patients part time here in town while she continues to work at Patton. Her experience and expertise would be of the utmost value to APU.

However, when she applied my mother was told, "You know, you're perfect for the job, but you just might be too white."

TOO WHITE?!

I never knew there was such a thing as too white? What does that even mean? I'll tell you what it means--it means that APU has finally reached the point where they are so focused on being diverse that they fail to hire the men and women who are applying with above and beyond the criteria for application. APU is turning away people that are more than qualified to fill the job--men and women that would bring new and wonderful experience and education to students because they simply don't fit the look.

That, ladies and gentlemen, is called reverse discrimination and I can not believe that a school with the moral and academic standards such as APU has would commit such a foul feaxpau.

Students and teachers should rise up and make a stand for their education and school. Discrimination will not ever be permissible or understandable.

No matter what...I will always have something better to do.

So...prior to Thanksgiving, I had nothing due. No midterms, no tests, no huge projects, really I had very little homework at all.

But for some reason teachers think, "Thanksgiving is coming up, and our students don't have a life outside of APU (or even outside of my class for that matter) so what will they possibly do with themselves. I should give them homework over the break, and not just some small tasks, but papers and projects and presentations that they can work on all of their break."

Ummmm, Hello! We do have lives outside of APU, outside of our major and outside of the library. We have family, friends and homes that we will be going to over the break. We will have visiting to do, rest to catch up on, food to cook, movies to see and an exciting holiday planned.

I am so frustrated with people assuming that you have nothing better to do than the tasks and work they plan for you to do, but I guess this is life............................BUT that doesn't mean I have to like it!

No matter what...I will always be the BIG sister!

This is my baby sister Cayla Rae (on the left). I have one sister. Cay is eight years younger than me, but to most people I look only a few years older at most. Part of the reason for that is she is now taller than me by a whole inch. That's right folks--eight years younger, and, at thirteen, she is already an inch ahead of me...and she's growing longer by the moment. That is all well and fine, but to add insult to injury she is soon to pass me in bra size as well...it is all just very sad to me. We went out yesterday for some Black Friday shopping and it occurred to me that to the casual stranger passing us, we probably both look the same age. My only consolation is that I can still kick her butt--although I am afraid that with her size even that will soon be a distant memory. The other day I was walking behind her for some reason, probably because she has longer legs than me now, and she looked behind at me and called, "Come on little sister." Well that's when I put my foot down, and, after tickeling her, I made darn clear that I will always be her big sister and she will always be my little sister no matter how BIG she gets.

No matter what...I am thankful for the carbs!

Ahhh...Thanksgiving, that blessed holiday where family's get together to give thanks for their loved ones, health, jobs, homes, food, dogs.... The list goes on and on.

We all know how it goes.

We sit down to a beautiful meal of turkey, mashed potatos, yams, stuffing, cranberry sauce, gravy, and maybe some type of green vegetable that holds some nutritional value. We give thanks to God for the bounty and then proceed to be gluttons as we stuff our faces with serving after serving. We walk away from the table with that "just kill me now" feeling, but still fear a heartattack in the coming hours.

Why do we do this?

Is it in the name of feasting and celebration? Or is there something deeper behind our "day of carbs."

Maybe Thanksgiving has become a day of rest for Americans.

As Christians we understand that we are supposed to rest each Sunday--rest from work and a long with that the everyday demands of life. American life is not built for rest though. In a nation where efficiency and the bottom line are number one, rest is almost a foreign word. But it is one that is remembered by all each year on Thanksgiving.

Yes, we work and work and work to make the food, but around family and friends baking and roasting don't seem hard labor. It is at and after the feast, however, that the real resting begins.

Where, but in America, are women (and men alike) so put upon to make themselves thin and beautiful--to the point of self destruction. So many Americans are on diets year-round jumping from "The Zone" or "Weight Watchers" to "Jenny Craig" or "The South Beach Diet" every few months.

On Thanksgiving this is all gone.

Who shows up to Thanksgiving on a diet? No one! And anyone who does bring their Jenny Craig meal or the organic salad to a carb infested table is severely mocked by all in attendance.

This is the American way of saying we need a break from pleasing others-it is time to please ourselves and have a day of pure selfish gluttony. For most it is not a lifestyle, but one day a year where we all get to say, "To hell with it, give me another helping of mashed potatoes and stuffing; Bring on the carbs!"

no matter what...music and lyrics make my world go round

I love music...considering my last post some of you may have already gathered that.

Music somehow speaks to me. It makes sense when no one else does. There is always a song that fits for any situation, any feeling, or any thought. In addition, song lyrics make me think about my life and the lives of those around me, they make me reevaluate what is important to me, and I find that I often need a reminding.

Here is a song that did that for me this weekend:

"Who Am I" by Watermark

VERSE 1
Over time you've healed so much of me
And I am living proof
That although my darkest hour had come
Your light could still shine throuh
And although it's just enough to cast a shadow on the wall
Well, I am grateful that you shined your light on me at all

CHORUS
Who am I
That you would love me so gently
Who am I
That you would recognize my name
Oh, Lord who am I
That you would speak to me so softly
Conversations with a love most high
Who am I

VERSE 2
Well amazing grace how sweet the sound
That saved a retch like me
I once was lost, but now I'm found
Was blind, but now I see
And the more I sing that sweet old song
The more I understand
That I do not comprehend this love that's flowing from your hand.
CHORUS

Grace, grace, God's grace
Grace that can pardon and cleanse within
Grace, grace, God's grace
Grace that is greater than all my sins

Amazing grace
How sweet the sound
Amazing love
Now flowing down
With hands and feet that were nailed to a tree
His grace flows down and covers me

Amazing grace (echo)
How sweet the sound (echo)
Amazing love
Now flowing down
With hands and feet that were nailed to a tree
Your grace flows down and covers me

Songs also remind me of very specific memories. Such songs include: "More Than You'll Ever Know" by Watermark--when I became best friends with my best friend, Avril Lavigne's first album--beach days the summer after my freshman year of high school, "Collide" by Howie Day--the song my boyfriend believes was playing when he said, "I love you" to me for the first time, "You and Me" by Lifehouse--the song I believe was playing when he said, "I love you" to me for the first time, "Butterfly Kisses" by Bob Carlisle--sitting on the couch when I was maybe ten with my daddy listening to this new song on the radio--my daddy cried and made me promise we'd dance to this song one day at my wedding, Celine Dion's first two CD's--in the car with my mom on the way to her school when she was getting her masters--yeah we rocked out together many a time, and Amy Grant's "Heart in Motion" CD--listening and rocking out with my cousin and mom in the car many a time.

When these songs come on the radio it's like I am reliving those moments all over again. I love that a simple song with simple lyrics can trigger such powerful emotions and memories for me.

What songs mean something to you?

No matter what...this will always be a fantasy...

I embarrass easily.

I turn red even when called upon in class, even when I know the answer and/or have something very insightful to say, even when the teacher isn't a gorgeous man, even when I know everyone in the classroom (but, especially when I don't). I embarrass easily...but I have these fantasies...yes, let's call them fantasies because to say they are dreams makes one read into these "fantasies" as being life-long goals of mine--like, oh say when I dream of being a renown writer, or of a white picket house with a wrap-around porch, big walk-in closets, and a writing room with an old fashioned writing desk all the pens in the world and a beautiful view from the window.

No, these aren't dreams because unlike the dreams I stated above, I don't expect my fantasies to come true.

Here are my fantasies--and I've had them ever since I can remember:

I am wearing a gorgeous dress with killer heels that somehow are only "killer" in their making me look gorgeous and don't ever kill my feet, I'm in the middle of a big stage in the dark. The full band behind me begins to play and I shout out to thousands of adoring fans including friends and family, "How y'all doing tonight?" The fans are screaming and I begin to sing. My voice is a mix of Mariah Carey, Whitney Houston, and Celine Dion. I am incredible, and although I know that my pitch is good and my notes are right on, I am completely unaware of how perfect the sound really is. I get a rush like none other just singing my heart out, bonding with the people there that night--it is a bond of melody yes, but also of lyrics and heart and rhythm.

These are the fantasies I have had since I was a little girl.

I usually have them when singing in my car--windows down and music turned way up. Or in my room when I'm all by myself and I've had a crappy day, or-- when I have a moment--in the garage, yes, the garage--it has the perfect acoustics and my voice is automatically volumized as it bounces off the walls and cupboards within that open space.

These are my fantasies--well, it really is only one,it just varies each time I have it.

What are your fantasies?

No matter what...I'm an uptown girl

Last night at 11:30 p.m. I returned to my apartment after a long day of traveling from Washington D.C.--what ended up being twelve hours of traveling whether by taxi, plane, bus or car. It was a great trip. Jillian Collett, Nicole Chin, Lisa (from KAPU radio station--don't remember her last name)and I went with our supervisor Prof. Karen Sorensen to the 2007 National College Media Convention. We each learned ways to improve our writing and The Clause in general. We went to sessions varying from "Religious Freedom--the First 16 Words of the First Ammendment" to "Right on Time: Keeping the College Weekly Fresh and Newsworthy" from "Crisp Style for Journalists" to "The Truth About Jobs and Internships."
It was interesting to be in a place where there were so many different journalists from so many publicatioins learning how to make their work better together. But I must say, my favorite part of the trip, although the learning was superb, was being in that city again. It had been six years since I had been there for my eighth grade field trip. I had forgotten how absolutely gorgeous it is over there.
Our room overlooked a street that, for D.C., was just an ordinary two lane street, but, compared to the ridiculous traffic filled streets of L.A. I am used to, seemed quaint and beautiful in that "Family Matters" way. It's houses were all multiple stories stacked right next to each other--all brick or planked wood with adorable porches and along streets lined with parked cars. A long the left side of the view was what looked like an embassy building with it's majestic white-washed look, big courtyard, and flags waving in the rainy, windy weather.
The city itself was alive with the hustle and bustle of people who don't use cars, but instead walk on foot in boots and ugs and leave their pumps and dress shoes in their desks at work. Every store, restaurant, bar, and coffee shop is open late and bursting with the sounds of lively chatter and excited conversation.
We walked the streets late together--after our sessions and dinner--looking for adventure around every corner. We were excited to discover the White House near by and the Capitol Building just as close. The skyline of high rise business and government buildings was amazing and although the stars were hard to find between rain clouds each evening was still magically lit from the adorable light posts that decorated the streets and parks.
Some may know that I have been pondering for a some time now applying to the Washington Journalism Center. Well, it was in this city where I realized just how amazing studying in a place like this would be. So after more touring and talking with the very eccentric founder of WJC, I have finally made the decision to apply for the program. I really feel like it is what I need for myself and also for my career. Especially because I became convinced at the convention that the key into the journalism industry is a great internship and lots of well written clips.
So that is where I am now--it's really funny to think about because just a year and a half I had no idea what I wanted to do, but I love that God has used my love of writing to direct my path. It's true--the desires of my heart really do matter to Him and that is continually comforting to me.

No matter what...Birthdays never grow old

My birthday is in two weeks. It's my 21st birthday and so it is kind of a big thing. The funny thing is though, I am not a drinker and I really don't think I'll ever be big on the whole alcohol scene. I have had drinks before, but when others get silly or happy when they are buzzed, I tend to just get very sleepy--I hate being sleepy especially when I am supposed to be having fun. My parents do have some great wine at home though and I know I will be happy to partake of more than the four sips my dad will allow me now.
What I am most excited about, rather than the drinking, is just getting together with friends and family and celebrating life. I love laughing and sharing stories, I love good food and having an excuse to eat all the cake I want, and I love that my birthday is the beginning of my favorite part of the year, oh and the presents are always a plus ;).
Birthdays have always been amazing at the Curtis household. When I was five, I had a circus birthday. No, we did not go to the circus--we brought the circus to us. We had games and face painting, a jumpy house, pin the tail on the donkey, a homemade clown cake that my grandpa made from scratch, a popcorn and cotton candy stand, and hotdogs for lunch. Birthdays have always been big. I usually was allowed to make plans for a friend party and then for my family party I got to pick what we ate for dinner. So my point is birthdays hold a special place in my heart even now that I am turning 21.
Most kids, as they grow, get bored with birthday parties, cake, and singing "Happy Birthday," but I still love it just as much as I did when I wore my pretty flower dress and got my face painted at my circus birthday party almost 16 years ago.
Birthdays to me will always be a magical day when everyone wants to treat me nice, be my friend, play dollies--or whatever other game it has grown to be--, and sit next to me while I open presents.
So I am here to say that my birthday is in two weeks, Nov. 10 and you are all invited to join in the celebration--the more the merrier.

No matter what...the broken are mended

I have discovered the secret to college life...breaking things. College is all about breaking things...breaking world views, philosophies, writing processes, feelings of security, financial stability, sleep patterns, hopes, dreams, desires, eating habits.
Recently I have had somewhat of a crisis of faith. My whole world seems to have been dumped upside down and for some reason it is really hard for me to make sense of anything right now.
This isn't the first time this has happened. A similar feeling came over me about four years ago when I got very sick after returning from a mission trip to the U.K. But although that was a learning process and certainly life changing for me, this somehow feels different. It seems more difficult. The way I see the world is forever altered. It's a hard thing to adjust to because in altering my world view everything else in my life is affected by the chain reaction.
In college we are introduced to a number of new theories, philosphies, points of view...all of which are intended to break us down, bend the corners of our minds, and make us think outside the box. It is too much to ask for a simple straight forward answer from a professor or advisor. No, we are asked to come to our own conclusions given all of the (known) facts.
It is exciting at first being in charge of what to believe and think... and for some this is their first experience with such a challenge.
But then later it can become earth shattering as we are forced to watch the things we held so close shatter...the truths we thought untouuchable broken into a million pieces.
It is a part of life...this breaking, I know that. Every season of life carries with it some letting go, some grief, but in college it is more so--if only because of the fact that we are for the first time understanding fully what we do and do not believe and being forced to make constant decisions that shape how we think and who we are and will be in the future.
The redeeming thing about college, and life in general, is that most of the time the things that are broken often get put back together again...I am holding on to this hope.
There is only One who can put the various mixmatched broken pieces of my worldview and everything connected with it back together in my life...I lean on the hope that He will restore me to a more complete version of myself than before...a more complete me than I had previously understood to be possible.

No matter what...true friends come back

I just got off the phone with a good friend of mine a little while ago. Jenelle and I have a long history. We grew up together--first in Moreno Valley and then, later in Temecula. We even lived together for about nine months during high school. This semester she is studying in San Francisco and it seems like an amazing opportunity, but we miss each other and don't get much time to catch up on life and just chat. Jenelle said something tonight though that I just loved. She said that it is so great that we are close enough to go about our lives and go our seperate ways, but when we come back together and catch up it's like we never miss a beat--like we never left eachother. And she is so right. True friends are like that. They can leave one another for varying time periods and still remain so close that there is no difference in their relationship when they are reunited.

No matter what, mom, you will always be my superhero."

You know when your little and you don't feel like doing something, but your mom tells you too and then adds that little extra line at the end, "Someday you may even thank me for making you do this...." As a kid you think no way will I ever understand you or why you're making me do this and no way will I ever thank you for it. Well I am here to say that I am repeatedly being forced to eat my words on that account.
For example, when I was little it was a must that I eat my vegetables and try everything at least once. I hated trying things that looked yucky or worse, eating things I knew would make me gag, but now that I am older I have come to see the wisdom behind my mothers words. I now enjoy a variety of foods, I always try everything and I think that this has helped to contribute to my being a well rounded (no pun intended here) person.
I was expected to do other various chores growing up: make my bed, help with dinner, feed the dog, take out the trash, and clean my bathroom and room. These are everyday chores that just about every kid hates to do--especially when they cut in on time spent in the pool or playing hide-and-go-seek with friends outside. But I am so thankful that I know how to clean up after myself, make my own meals and live in a clean environment.
The fact of the matter is I would not be who I am today with out the tender care of my mother.
I am convinced that my mom is super mom! She cooks, cleans, helps with homework, does the laundry and all this after she gets home from treating insane criminals for eight hours a day at a hospital an hour and a half away. My mom gives the best advice, knows when to give it and when to let me figure things out on my own. She has mastered the art of cooking dairyless and eggless for two decades now. She lets me know when I am missed, but understands that I have to strike out and make a life of my own. In essence she is my biggest fan and my best friend roled into one. And I love her for all of it.... for every minute way she loves me and the rest of the family, for the way she makes home feel like home, for the way she showers people with her thoughtful gifts and understanding words of encouragement, from writing notes and putting them in my lunches to driving out to meet me with meals in tow for the next week because I am away at college and haven't had time in the past week to make it to the grocery store.
Everything she does she does in responce to her love for others... that is why I am saying tonight: "No matter what, mom, you will always be my superhero."

no matter what...laughter is the best medicine

Yesterday I spent the day with my boyfriend, DAN (I capitalize his name here because he was dismayed when he read my other blogs and found that I only referred to him as "my boyfriend"). My favorite part of our day together was our tickle fight.
I was delirious at the time because I was tired. If any of you know me--you know that I get silly and playful and yes, some have even associated my actions with that of a drunk person when I get sleepy.
So anyways, I was tickling Dan, the man who claims he is not ticklish in the least, and he laughed--a lot. I am a very ticklish person--even if someone looks like they are going to tickle me I start squirming and giggling uncontrollably. So we laughed--a lot.
I love that when I laugh all my worries, hurts, and pains go away--even for a brief moment. The past week was hard--harder than I imagined it would be. Every week seems to be that way now. Just when I think I have everything under control, I am forced to realize again that I can't control anything. That is why, every now and then, I have to be reminded to laugh. Dan knows how to remind me. Just when I get too serious, he can look at me funny or tickle me under my armpits and I remember to laugh again, to breath, and to play. He teaches me not to take myself too seriously and for that I am thankful because even I (the second most stubborn person I know) can admit I get crazy sometimes under the pressures of this life I lead. So thanks babe for laughing with me this weekend.

No matter what..."time is of the essence" or "you never know what you got til its gone"

Okay, so my other blog got me thinking because I briefly mentioned this in it:

It is amazing to me how much time I used to have. I did nothing with my time. What did I do with all of the wonderful amounts of time I had in years previous? I don't even have a clue--I vaguely remember watching copious amounts of F.R.I.E.N.D.S. but apart from that--I honestly don't know where or to what my time went.

Now, this year, I am extremely aware of every spare moment--probably because there are so few... I am painfully aware of them. If I have an extra ten minutes I am taken off guard--what will I do with this insane amount of extra time?

This must fall into the category of: "you never really know what you've got until it's gone."
Suddenly I find myself singing Amy Grant's "Parking Lot" song... "Don't it always seem to go that you don't know what ya got 'til it's gone...pave paradise and put up a parking lot...woo...."
Sorry about that--I can't resist a good song... and yes I did sing it to make sure I got the right words down.

Anyways, I am suddenly at a loss for time and it is affecting much more of my life than I ever really imagined it would.

My relationships are impacted--I now make appointments with friends--gone are the days when we could casually meet up somewhere; now I schedule my lunch dates or playtime at the park. And even when I do this I inevitably will, occassionaly, double book and have to cancel on someone. My boyfriend calls and I am in the middle of something so I promise to call back only to forget and have him call me again later when I am already on to my next task.

My homework is impacted. I find myself constantly juggling life--which is more important the reading for Church History or the 1 page response for Romans and Galatians or should I just skip both and study for my Media Law and Ethics test on Thursday because I won't have time to study on Wednesday because I'll be at the Clause office until 1 a.m.?

My sleep is impacted--I find myself waking up in the middle of the night asking myself "Did I assign that story too early?" or "Did I brush my teeth?" I am a walking zomby for half of the week because I get up early to finish assignments before class. Then, Thursday after class--really the end of my most stressful part of the week-- I crash. I go to sleep for hours at a time in the middle of my Thursday and don't feel completly rested again until Sunday morning--just in time to start all over again.

I wish that I could just go back in time for a moment and just tell myself to enjoy the free time while it lasts...because soon reality will hit--and boy did it hit hard this semester.

Somehow time isn't something people think of when they think of lost or stolen goods. I do now. My time is precious and anything that I am doing that isn't worth my time is stolen from me--lost forever.

So if you are talking to me and I look a little annoyed--maybe pick up the conversation or change topics--don't waste the few precious free moments I have in my day. :)

no matter what...best friends are forever--even when in Spain

My best friend and I met in junior high school. I was sad at the time because it was my eighth grade year and, as highschool approached, I was being forced to once again make new friends. All of my friends from previous years were moving schools for highschool and I knew that eventually I would be left alone at my small Christian school, Linfield.

I was going to Disneyland with my mom and sister and we girls were allowed to bring along a friend. I took this opportunity to get to know Taylor Martindale, a girl I knew was staying for highschool, from my Geography class. So I invited her and it was a blast! We became instant life-long friends at Disneyland, which may be part of the reason why Disneyland has always seemed so magical to me. From that day on we were inseperable an we found that through the school projects, birthday parties, painting nails, pillow fights, book clubs, movie nights, midnight snacks and endless summer pool days we became closer than sisters.

After Highschool we each went on to our seperate places she went to the east coast to William and Mary and I went just an hour and a half north to Azusa. It took me a while to get used to not having her around everyday after highschool, but we talked every week or two on the phone and constantly instant messaged and emailed one another. Plus, she came home on holidays and so we really only had to go a few months without actually hanging out together in person.

On Christmas break of our freshman year--tragedy striked. She and her family moved to Oregon. I was heartbroken as only a best friend could be, but we still kept in touch constantly and in the summer before our sophomore year my boyfriend and I drove up to see her for a few days. This past summer Tay and her family were able to move back to Temecula, Ca--where we grew up and where I still live. It was the best thing that could have happened. We were so excited to just be around each other again. We had sleep overs and play dates all the time--it was just like being in highschool again--only without the lameness.

But alas, we were forced to part ways once again. Only this fall she is living in Sevilla, Spain, not in Virginia, on a study abroad program. And I have recently been forced to come to the horrible realization that I no longer can pick up my phone and call my best friend when something funny happens or when I'm bored on my way home from work like I did so many times before. It's an adjustment like none other. I thought, (stupidly) somehow, that this semester wouldn't be all that different from the many others before it--I guess I just figured that if you're 3,000 miles away what's a few more thousand miles? But I didn't factor into my calculations how busy I would be this semester and the fact that virtually all our communication is going to be through emails and blogs.

The fact of the matter is--I miss my best friend. She is the one that knows me better than anyone else does. She understands where I am coming from, where I want to go and how I want to get there. She always knows just what to say when I am hurting or sad and just when to laugh when I am telling one of my poorly delivered jokes. I know many people will say, "Whitney, it's just for a semester," and "you have other friends." I know this and I don't deny it in any way, I have many other friends whom I love and adore, but really in any friendship there is no one that can just replace your best friend--not even another wonderful friend.

I know that Tay and I will always be friends, our friendship does not hang in the balance because she is simply a million miles away and almost unreachable. She will be back at Christmas and life will be like it was. No, I am not lamenting a lost friendship here. I am lamenting an easily accessible friend--lost for the time being, leaving me a little lonelier than I was once before.

no matter what...spontaneity is always welcome

Homework, homework, homework. I set aside the entire day for homework. I try to get as much done on the weekend so I don't have to worry about it during the week when I have a million other things on my mind. Tonight I was concentrating very hard on convincing myself that I was actually getting homework done when my roommate interrupted my process of procrastination and told me that the grocery store trip run we were supposed to take earlier, the one I had since given up going on, was on again and we were leaving in a half hour. I got my sweat shirt, grabbed my shoes, finished up my web surf and a half hour later we were on the road.
However, on the way to the store, Madison, my roommate, decided that she didn't want to go to Stater Bros. or the million other grocery stores that are east of Citrus, but she wanted to travel down foothill to look for some place new. Well, long story short, we never found a grocery store and we decided that, being girls and it being a certain emotional time of the month, we would both rather chat over dessert than go grocery shopping anyways.
As it turns out we had a lovely time at Claim Jumpers; her with her mud pie and me with my berry cobbler. We had so much fun we decided to make our spontaneous outing a once-a-month thing, but in order to keep the spontaneity alive we vowed to never plan our once-a-month Claim Jumper outing but to instead impulsively cancel our plans like we did tonight.
Everyone should plan spontaneity into their life--it makes things so much more exciting, especially when all you have to look forward to for the night is coming up with new ways to put off homework.

No matter what...

"No matter what!" That's what my dad told me consistently growing up; meaning, He'll love me no matter what. Whenever I did something to warrant his dissaproval or to get in serious trouble growing up after I got my punishment and a stern talking to he always ended things with I love you...no matter what. I knew that I'd could never be beyond the reach of his unfailing love, no matter what I did. As I got older my dad's speeches were so predictable that sometimes I'd finish his last sentence and then it just became our thing. He'd say, "I love you..." and I'd say, "No matter what."
When thinking about this blog and what I should write on I decided that I would write on the things that I know no matter what. Thus, my first entry is "No matter what my daddy will always love me."