Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Alright kids, now that I have done my duty as a fan, let me delve into what I have really been thinking about. The book and movie focus so much on courage and I started wondering, "Do I have courage?" What does it mean to be courageous especially in our world today? I'm not going to go join the Army and fight for our freedom with a gun in one hand and the bible in the other. I've never been one to march in strikes for animal rights and other "moral" wrongs. You won't find me petitioning for social changes or fighting against politicians so what can I do? What do I want to do?
Tell me, friends. What do you wish you had the courage to do? If you could make a change what would it be?
I have always believed I had captured the essence of truly writing. I have myriads of files on my computer that contain words that have flown freely in moments of divine inspiration. I have written about love, anger, frustration, work and even my hair, but when it comes to letting you in, letting the blogging world in, I am at impasse. Perhaps I am doing something wrong. Maybe I lack the honest glimpses into my life that so many others willingly share. There's even a chance that my life is just too dull to be entertaining to anyone but myself. Either way, I find myself eagerly pressing the "NEW POST" button only to sit starring in anxious uncertainty about what to write. How do you share your soul with people you don't even know? Where is the line of too personal and how do you know when it's been crossed? I lack the patience to edit every photo I take and to be frank I lack to desire to take very many pictures. Does this minute character flaw mean no one cares to read what I write? Do I need to turn up the sarcasm and turn down the sincerity? Do I need more sincerity and fewer silly stories? Are people interested in the silly stories and not the journal entries? Who am I blogging for after all?
It would be a blatant lie if I were to say I don't yearn for followers. It's possible that I am a self conscious weasel seeking approval and popularity by the number of people that blog stalk me, but mostly I just want to have that 'blog connection' with others. I love when people leave comments. I feel victorious when someone says, "I was reading your blog..." and I am encompassed by pride when I see someone new has discovered these Chronicles. Is that wrong? Am I writing for myself anymore? I really don't know. I don't know what to change if anything and I don't know if I can. For now I will continue to commit my innermost thoughts to my personal journals. Someday that might change. Someday I might write something without fear of offence or ridicule. "Offence and ridicule" maybe that's the problem.
I think I'm afraid. I'm afraid to become translucent. I am terrified that people will see who I am, the person that lies behind the smile and big hair, and they won't like her. I don't trust the people I associate with enough to tell them the stories that lie in the hidden caverns of my heart, so why would I let a group of people I hardly know in on my secrets? Am I in the wrong?
What does it take to be a writer?
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Blogger hates me
freaking won't let
without a million
Monday, August 22, 2011
July 15th rolled around and it ended up being the most magical day of Cami's life. You see, she has a deep, unrelenting, and almost obsessive love for Harry Potter. Sharing a birthday with the biggest phenomena to sweep the free world inevitably dictates that you will have a near blazing passion for it. Plans had been made to embark on a five hour adventure that would entail her and four friends dressing up in the most complete homemade Harry Potter costumes that they could throw together and sitting in a congested parking lot for five hours just to be among the first to see the final installment of the film franchise. Cami was ecstatic. Her week had gone by in a blur as she tried to decipher her feelings for Seth. Did he have feelings for her or had things simply happened in situation of heightened emotion? She had tried texting him after Saturday, but the conversations felt forced and she quickly gave up on it. Before she had relented into the idea that nothing more would come from their friendship, she had discussed the third Chronicles of Narnia with him and made unofficial plans to see it together that weekend. She needed to get that boy out of her head. Nothing says, “I’m desperately trying not to think of a certain someone,” like spending a fun filled evening checking your phone. Needless to say, he was under her skin.
Harry Potter at 12:15 on the 15th and Cami sat with bated breath. Her childhood was escaping her grasp and all she could do was watch it unfold with vacillating apprehension. Little did she know that today she would lose more than adolescent fascinations and innocent fantasies; this was the beginning of charms and enchantments of the Muggle sort. The movie provided the distraction she was seeking, but with only four hours of sleep and a full day of work to go she spent the rest of the day in varied stages of sleep deprivation. She was exhausted. Mentally, she couldn’t focus on her work; emotionally, she still felt confused and more recently disappointed; and physically she couldn’t keep her eyes open or her yawns contained. That’s why she didn’t know what to do when she received a text from the boy. He asked if she still wanted to watch Narnia with him that night and she asked if someone would give her CPR. She was appalled. She had thought he had forgotten, but he told her he could never forget something like that (cue the butterflies) and so plans were made for date number two.
Anxiety; sheer, all consuming anxiety was what Cami felt as she waited for him to pick her up. Would things be awkward now? Would he hold her hand again? Did she want him to? How did things get so complicated? Cami took a breath that started at her toes and answered the door. Thus it had begun.
The drive went effortlessly. Forty five minutes of chatting about nothing and everything flew by and we were suddenly at his house. Introductions were needed and then the upstairs den beckoned us and we answered with enthusiasm. She chose the best seat in the house and before she could even make herself comfortable Seth's arm was around her. Don't ask what the movie was about because she was too distracted by his hands in hers. Before she knew it, the credits had started to roll and they had embarked on an adventure of their own. They like to call this adventure a bonafide DTR. Words were exchanged and a decision was made. He would be leaving to study abroad in a month, but he wanted to try things out anyway. She didn't want anything serious and really liked him. It was official. She could have drifted home by how light she felt. Home. With the impact of a ten pound hammer, she realized she was supposed to be home by midnight. Call her Cinderella, but she had a curfew to keep to. She checked her phone and saw it was ten after 12; she was already late. Cami stood in a flurry and grabbed her bag to go but as she turned Seth stood in front of her. He was close. She was unprepared. He grabbed her tight and softly whispered, "I guess if I'm the first boy you've ever held hands with that means I'm going to be the first boy you ever kiss." Then it happened.
In movies first kisses are made out to be all the bells and whistles. Magic fills the air and the world stops as two become one. Perhaps Cami is naive, but that isn't exactly how it works; it was almost better. She was taken so off guard as he kissed her that her eyes were open and her arms to her side. In her head she screamed, "STOP!" but only because she didn't know what else to do. Everything she had ever heard about kissing rushed through her mind and she closed her eyes and embraced the moment. In an unexpected moment of cliche impulse her foot popped. It was like Princess Diaries. Then she remembered how severely she dislikes that movie and firmly planted her foot back on the ground. She focused on the moment. The kiss was sweet. It wasn't long but it was done with intent and she was proud to call it her first. It had a pinch of comedy, a heap of magic, and a pound of wonderful and created the most enchanting day of her life.
Thursday, August 18, 2011
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
Before I knew it, I was in love. I was in love with the look people gave me when we were together; that look of envy that I was "that girl." I was in love with being the lucky one. I was in love with the way you would surprise me with a compliment in the middle of our conversation. I was in love with how you loved your family more than friends, and the church more than your family. I was in love with how you would sing loud even if it wasn't right. I was in love that you embodied the love of Christ. I was in love with the way people knew it. I was in love with your Justin Bieber hair. I was in love with your mom. I was in love with our potential, but I wasn't in love with you. I was in love with the idea of you.
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
They were unique. They were indie. They were AWFUL. My bangs suddenly became impossibly thick. For the first time in my life the straightener and my forehead came into contact and it wasn't a happy meeting. I knew I needed to make a change. I knew that the bangs weren't working, but I so did not want to grow them out and endure months of being hidden behind a veil of bangage. Unfortunately, the worst has happened.