December 8th, 2010.
Classes ended today.
I'm really excited about that! My life is coming back to me.
But this time in the semester always brings me sadness along with the relief. An end has come. I won't ever be in those classes again. More importantly, I probably won't see all of those people anymore. I won't see most of my professors on a regular basis, if ever, anymore. Most of my classmates will become people that I might pass in the hallway from time to time, but that's it. We won't work together ever again, we won't sit together from that point on.
Even though I'm the kind of person who doesn't really know most of the people she has class with everyday, this ending still makes me pause and almost start to grieve. It's when the semester comes to a close that I start to wish that I had reached out to people more. I should have been talking to everyone during the semester, because now our time together is over, and I don't have another chance. When the end of the semester comes, I always feel like we should all stop and give each other a proper farewell, at the very least. Ideally, everyone should promise to keep in touch, make sure they find each other on Facebook, and distribute hugs amongst the group. I mean, we've spent an entire 14 weeks together, in the same environment, learning the same things, taking the same tests, dealing with that same frustrations. That means something. A lot of something. We can't just walk out and not acknowledge it.
But so much of the time, we do. Class ends, we rush out the door, and with that, people we've been living our lives with for three and a half months are things of the past, never to be seen again.
So, even though I've been looking forward to it, I'm having a bit of a hard time being happy about classes being over. I suppose I'll get over it, but there are some people I had class with my freshman year whom I have not seen since, and I still feel a bit of sadness that our lives are not interconnected anymore, or that we didn't even properly acknowledge our inevitable separation before it happened.
There are few endings in life that are quite as final as the ending of school. I think that's why I have a hard time with it. Most things that end in life just fade. I don't know ahead of time that they're going to end, it just kind of happens over time. So I'm not hit with the force of the same impending finality.
And in May, I graduate.....
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
"This could be the start of something new."
Significant things happen on a regular basis. One can never know what is going to unfold in the next moment. It could be life-changing.
I don't know if you're like me, but most things in my life don't seem like a big deal at the time in which they are happening. I live my life, moments come, moments go, and for the most part, they all feel about the same. Life is ordinary. That doesn't mean it's not interesting, but interest is not an exclusive, or even necessary, determiner of significance. I look at most things in my life and think, "Well, that was fun. I don't know if it will ever mean anything beyond that. But it was fun nonetheless."
To be sure, there are moments that feel really weighty and they are really weighty. On the whole, however, it's not that obvious. In many cases, the urge to speculate is irresistible. Something happens that seems like it could develop into more, and I mull over what that might look like in my head.
One of those moments occurred today, in my History of Popular Music in America class.
We were assigned a big semester group project, and that project was to write and record a song.
When I first heard this, I was both excited and scared. The thought of writing and recording a song is cool. But before this, I had no composition experience. Not a single song lyric had been penned, outside of the ridiculous things that seem to come unthinkingly out of my head when I'm cleaning, cooking, walking down the street, etc. No melodies had been strung together, outside of those same ridiculous songs. No harmonic progressions had been dreamed up, outside of the disastrous passacaglia I had to write in theory II (and that was classical music, so it doesn't count anyway.) So I was feeling inadequate. The fact that I can't really play anything didn't boost my confidence either. The one thing I clung to was my ability to sing. That I knew I could do, so I didn't despair completely.
So we started, none of us really knowing what to expect. While talking about what we might want to write about, one girl in my group pulled out a song that she had written with a friend and played it for us, just because. But we all liked it. It was good. With some work, it would fit our purposes.
And so I had my first real venture into songwriting. It was a tiny one. The song was mostly whole, but I wrote a few lines, changed a few existing ones. And she had words for a bridge, and a chord progression for said bridge, but no melody. So I wrote a melody. The work I did wasn't much, but it was exciting nonetheless.
The next big obstacle was recording. None of us had access to a studio, and it turned out that none of us even had basic okay quality recording equipment. Nor much experience editing. The best thing I could come up with was to ask my brother if we could use his laptop, which I knew would produce something passable. Graciously, he agreed and we got together in a practice room with an acoustic guitar and my voice, and recorded one track of the ambient sound in the room. It wasn't great, but you could hear everything. And it wasn't painful.
Thus we were done, and felt kind of nervous about what people would think about it.
Today was the day of reckoning. Presentations of the songs from every group took place. When our turn came, I thought "here goes!" and we stood at the front of the room while everyone else listened.
To my great surprise and pleasure, the first thing that was said was something like this: "That was beautiful. I really liked that. That recording did not do that justice at all. I think you need to give that to someone who can take it and really make it something great."
What? Did I hear that correctly? I, of course, don't take much credit, because most of the writing was done by someone other than me, but I did contribute. And it was my voice that was on that recording, and as great as the words may have been, I don't think anyone would have earnestly called it beautiful if the vocal presentation had been crummy. Or worse. So I'm encouraged!
This is only possibly significant because of the things I've been thinking and feeling. I have felt for a long time like making music is in my future, but with the lack of original creativity, there never has really been any evidence to suggest that that would be a reality. Also, even though before this project I had never written anything, my brother has been...not quite hounding me, but almost...about writing songs. He keeps telling me I need to. I've been thinking to myself, "Where is this coming from? I have no songwriting track record, so why is that the one thing that he keeps telling me I should get busy doing?" It would make more sense for him to tell me to start catering. Or writing literary criticism. Or sewing for people, even. I do not call myself an experienced seamstress, but I have more experience with a needle and thread than I do with melody-making.
Maybe there's a reason for all of this. Maybe this song project will lead to something more in my personal life that just a grade in a class. Maybe, even though this felt like just another ordinary, yet fun, part of my life as a college student, I will look back on it in the future and see that it was significant.
Or maybe not.
Either way, I'm grateful for this experience. Whether anyone ever knows me as such, I can now call myself a songwriter.
I don't know if you're like me, but most things in my life don't seem like a big deal at the time in which they are happening. I live my life, moments come, moments go, and for the most part, they all feel about the same. Life is ordinary. That doesn't mean it's not interesting, but interest is not an exclusive, or even necessary, determiner of significance. I look at most things in my life and think, "Well, that was fun. I don't know if it will ever mean anything beyond that. But it was fun nonetheless."
To be sure, there are moments that feel really weighty and they are really weighty. On the whole, however, it's not that obvious. In many cases, the urge to speculate is irresistible. Something happens that seems like it could develop into more, and I mull over what that might look like in my head.
One of those moments occurred today, in my History of Popular Music in America class.
We were assigned a big semester group project, and that project was to write and record a song.
When I first heard this, I was both excited and scared. The thought of writing and recording a song is cool. But before this, I had no composition experience. Not a single song lyric had been penned, outside of the ridiculous things that seem to come unthinkingly out of my head when I'm cleaning, cooking, walking down the street, etc. No melodies had been strung together, outside of those same ridiculous songs. No harmonic progressions had been dreamed up, outside of the disastrous passacaglia I had to write in theory II (and that was classical music, so it doesn't count anyway.) So I was feeling inadequate. The fact that I can't really play anything didn't boost my confidence either. The one thing I clung to was my ability to sing. That I knew I could do, so I didn't despair completely.
So we started, none of us really knowing what to expect. While talking about what we might want to write about, one girl in my group pulled out a song that she had written with a friend and played it for us, just because. But we all liked it. It was good. With some work, it would fit our purposes.
And so I had my first real venture into songwriting. It was a tiny one. The song was mostly whole, but I wrote a few lines, changed a few existing ones. And she had words for a bridge, and a chord progression for said bridge, but no melody. So I wrote a melody. The work I did wasn't much, but it was exciting nonetheless.
The next big obstacle was recording. None of us had access to a studio, and it turned out that none of us even had basic okay quality recording equipment. Nor much experience editing. The best thing I could come up with was to ask my brother if we could use his laptop, which I knew would produce something passable. Graciously, he agreed and we got together in a practice room with an acoustic guitar and my voice, and recorded one track of the ambient sound in the room. It wasn't great, but you could hear everything. And it wasn't painful.
Thus we were done, and felt kind of nervous about what people would think about it.
Today was the day of reckoning. Presentations of the songs from every group took place. When our turn came, I thought "here goes!" and we stood at the front of the room while everyone else listened.
To my great surprise and pleasure, the first thing that was said was something like this: "That was beautiful. I really liked that. That recording did not do that justice at all. I think you need to give that to someone who can take it and really make it something great."
What? Did I hear that correctly? I, of course, don't take much credit, because most of the writing was done by someone other than me, but I did contribute. And it was my voice that was on that recording, and as great as the words may have been, I don't think anyone would have earnestly called it beautiful if the vocal presentation had been crummy. Or worse. So I'm encouraged!
This is only possibly significant because of the things I've been thinking and feeling. I have felt for a long time like making music is in my future, but with the lack of original creativity, there never has really been any evidence to suggest that that would be a reality. Also, even though before this project I had never written anything, my brother has been...not quite hounding me, but almost...about writing songs. He keeps telling me I need to. I've been thinking to myself, "Where is this coming from? I have no songwriting track record, so why is that the one thing that he keeps telling me I should get busy doing?" It would make more sense for him to tell me to start catering. Or writing literary criticism. Or sewing for people, even. I do not call myself an experienced seamstress, but I have more experience with a needle and thread than I do with melody-making.
Maybe there's a reason for all of this. Maybe this song project will lead to something more in my personal life that just a grade in a class. Maybe, even though this felt like just another ordinary, yet fun, part of my life as a college student, I will look back on it in the future and see that it was significant.
Or maybe not.
Either way, I'm grateful for this experience. Whether anyone ever knows me as such, I can now call myself a songwriter.
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Grateful to be incapable.
Remember what I said yesterday about maybe passing theory IV?
I'm a little more unsure today. A little more than a little unsure, really. I'm trying to not count my eggs before they hatch, as they say, and not panic. Breathe in. Breathe out. Don't fret.
Money has also been concerning my brain. My attitude about money usually runs something like this: "I need to get across town today and I have just enough money to get enough gas to get across town and back home. I'm doing pretty good." But there are times when my insecurity gets the better of me, and I see what I expect is coming in the future, and I'm not sure how it's going to work out. And it bothers me. That's where I am right now.
I also injured myself on Tuesday. Somehow, in the course of my much walking in the rain, I pulled a muscle in my leg. Since then, I've been limping. It takes me twice as long to get anywhere. The elevators at school and I have become better friends. I feel handicapped. As someone who is always darting from one place to the next, motivated by an urge to get things done now and an intolerance of being late, it's frustrating.
Due to others in my family needing to use my car, I wasn't able to drive myself to school today. I hold no hard feelings against anyone. I'm happy that I have a car that is available when someone else needs it. But as soon as I got out of my second class, I was tempted to drive home for my break before my last class. Since we had a test, we got out earlier than normal, so the temptation was even stronger. But I can't go anywhere. Again, being the hyperactive person that I am, that's never easy for me.
In my next class, I have to get up and "teach." Instead of lecturing all of the time, my professor seems to like having his students learn by way of researching themselves and then telling the class what they've found. Essentially, we all lecture a little piece of what he would normally be doing himself and he supervises. This isn't an illogical concept, but public speaking and I still aren't the best of friends. I don't get nervous like I did at one time, at least not consciously. But my body still acts like I'm nervous, regardless of what my conscious feelings tell me. Whenever I have to speak in front of an audience, I feel fine inside, but my legs start shaking to the point that they won't support me. And I fear it comes through in my voice. This is another frustrating situation. I'm not nervous, so why do I shake? Even in a situation of complete confidence, I can't seem to get anything right.
In a word, I'm feeling incapable. In every area of life.
But this is a good thing. My incapability reminds me that I'm dependent, which is something that I, an extremely independent person, need to have put in front me regularly. Frustration, suffering, adversity, all of these things build character. They shape me into a better person.
As Caedmon's Call said in a song that I have loved since childhood, "I am thankful that I'm incapable."
I'm a little more unsure today. A little more than a little unsure, really. I'm trying to not count my eggs before they hatch, as they say, and not panic. Breathe in. Breathe out. Don't fret.
Money has also been concerning my brain. My attitude about money usually runs something like this: "I need to get across town today and I have just enough money to get enough gas to get across town and back home. I'm doing pretty good." But there are times when my insecurity gets the better of me, and I see what I expect is coming in the future, and I'm not sure how it's going to work out. And it bothers me. That's where I am right now.
I also injured myself on Tuesday. Somehow, in the course of my much walking in the rain, I pulled a muscle in my leg. Since then, I've been limping. It takes me twice as long to get anywhere. The elevators at school and I have become better friends. I feel handicapped. As someone who is always darting from one place to the next, motivated by an urge to get things done now and an intolerance of being late, it's frustrating.
Due to others in my family needing to use my car, I wasn't able to drive myself to school today. I hold no hard feelings against anyone. I'm happy that I have a car that is available when someone else needs it. But as soon as I got out of my second class, I was tempted to drive home for my break before my last class. Since we had a test, we got out earlier than normal, so the temptation was even stronger. But I can't go anywhere. Again, being the hyperactive person that I am, that's never easy for me.
In my next class, I have to get up and "teach." Instead of lecturing all of the time, my professor seems to like having his students learn by way of researching themselves and then telling the class what they've found. Essentially, we all lecture a little piece of what he would normally be doing himself and he supervises. This isn't an illogical concept, but public speaking and I still aren't the best of friends. I don't get nervous like I did at one time, at least not consciously. But my body still acts like I'm nervous, regardless of what my conscious feelings tell me. Whenever I have to speak in front of an audience, I feel fine inside, but my legs start shaking to the point that they won't support me. And I fear it comes through in my voice. This is another frustrating situation. I'm not nervous, so why do I shake? Even in a situation of complete confidence, I can't seem to get anything right.
In a word, I'm feeling incapable. In every area of life.
But this is a good thing. My incapability reminds me that I'm dependent, which is something that I, an extremely independent person, need to have put in front me regularly. Frustration, suffering, adversity, all of these things build character. They shape me into a better person.
As Caedmon's Call said in a song that I have loved since childhood, "I am thankful that I'm incapable."
"You know I ran across an old box of letters
While I was bagging up some clothes for Goodwill
But you Know I had to laugh at the same old struggles
That plagued me then are plaguing me still
I know the road is long from the ground to glory
But a boy can hope he's getting some place
But you see, I'm running from the very clothes I'm wearing
And dressed like this I'm fit for the chase
'Cause no, there is none righteous
Not one who understands
There is none who seek God
No not one, I said no not one
So I am thankful that I'm incapable
Of doing any good on my own
'Cause we're all stillborn and dead in our transgressions
We're shackled up to the sin we hold so dear
So what part can I play in the work of redemption
I can't refuse, I cannot add a thing
'Cause I am just like Lazarus and I can hear your voice
I stand and rub my eyes and walk to You
Because I have no choice
I am thankful that I'm incapable
Of doing any good on my own
I'm so thankful that I'm incapable
Of doing any good on my own
'Cause by grace I have been saved
Through faith that's not my own
It is a gift of God and not by works
Lest anyone should boast"
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
12/1/2010
Things I am grateful for today (See, I told you I give little regard to convention):
- It's December 1st.
- It's kinda cold outside.
- It's Wednesday.
- I didn't do any homework yesterday.
- What is likely to be the hardest part of my semester is over.
- Finals start next Friday.
- The end of the semester is almost here.
- Christmas is coming.
- Jesus was born, which is why I'm glad for Christmas.
- It snowed yesterday. In November. Which never happens.
- My grandma is coming for a visit.
- She's bringing Thanksgiving leftovers from the dinner at her house that we missed.
- This will be my only Thanksgiving dinner, because we didn't have one at my house at all, so that makes this especially exciting.
- I made an 89 on my last theory test.
- I made a presentation yesterday with little preparation, and no one laughed at me.
- Apparently, I'm not a miserable public speaker.
- I don't think I'm failing any of my classes.
- I think I might actually pass theory IV.
- We're performing Handel's Messiah twice this weekend.
- I live in Murfreesboro, Tennessee.
- I'm not sick.
- I can breathe.
- I have friends. A lot of friends. Great friends.
- I not only love my family, I like them.
- All of them seem to like me, too.
- Most of all, I'm grateful for this: "Behold, I make all things new...It is done." (Revelation 21)
Sunday, November 28, 2010
Caffeine woes.
I think God specifically didn't want me to get addicted to caffeine, or ever even depend on it. I don't know why me and not other people. There are plenty of people addicted to caffeine. There are plenty of others who aren't addicted, but come to depend on it in a crunch. I don't know why I would be singled out from the masses.
But I seem to be. Caffeine, while its highly stimulating to most, has never noticeably changed my energy level. I can be tired, drink copious amounts of the socially acceptable drug, and then lie down and promptly go to sleep.
Overall, I consider this to be a blessing. I really don't like the idea of being one of those people who's so sensitive that I can drink a Dr. Pepper at 10 AM and still be running on a high 15 hours later. But there are times when my singled-out state is slightly annoying.
Like now. I'm in the middle of a do-three-projects-from-start-to-finish-in-six-days marathon, and I'm thinking it would be nice if I could know that should I get sleepy in the middle of the day tomorrow, I could find something to help me through. Because I really need to get them all finished tomorrow. And should I stay up really late tomorrow night, I'll need to have the gumption to stay up all day Tuesday, because I have class all day, so I can't come home and sleep. Not only do I have class all day, I have to turn in all of my projects and give presentations, so I can't just sit in the corner and zone out. I have to be clear-headed and able to skillfully orate.
This is why I live a mostly caffeine-less existence. I figure, what's the point? I get no staying-awake benefits. And I don't think it does me a lot of good otherwise. So why ingest it? And it's close cousin on the soda side, carbonation. I've become one of those people who doesn't even like to drink carbonation much anymore, caffeine or no. As I'm drinking it, it just feels wrong. Until moments like this, when I start thinking, I should go buy a two-liter of Pepsi. And maybe a Dr. Pepper too, for good measure.
I guess this is one of those areas in life where I have no choice but to trust God. I come across a lot of those. It's like God decided early in my life, "No. I'm going to take everything away from you and engineer your existence specifically so that you can't depend on anything else. All these people who single-handedly keep a Starbucks branch open, and drink a two-liter of Mountain Dew a day, you're not even going to have the option to be one of them." It can be exhausting.
I guess I'm grateful for that.
But I seem to be. Caffeine, while its highly stimulating to most, has never noticeably changed my energy level. I can be tired, drink copious amounts of the socially acceptable drug, and then lie down and promptly go to sleep.
Overall, I consider this to be a blessing. I really don't like the idea of being one of those people who's so sensitive that I can drink a Dr. Pepper at 10 AM and still be running on a high 15 hours later. But there are times when my singled-out state is slightly annoying.
Like now. I'm in the middle of a do-three-projects-from-start-to-finish-in-six-days marathon, and I'm thinking it would be nice if I could know that should I get sleepy in the middle of the day tomorrow, I could find something to help me through. Because I really need to get them all finished tomorrow. And should I stay up really late tomorrow night, I'll need to have the gumption to stay up all day Tuesday, because I have class all day, so I can't come home and sleep. Not only do I have class all day, I have to turn in all of my projects and give presentations, so I can't just sit in the corner and zone out. I have to be clear-headed and able to skillfully orate.
This is why I live a mostly caffeine-less existence. I figure, what's the point? I get no staying-awake benefits. And I don't think it does me a lot of good otherwise. So why ingest it? And it's close cousin on the soda side, carbonation. I've become one of those people who doesn't even like to drink carbonation much anymore, caffeine or no. As I'm drinking it, it just feels wrong. Until moments like this, when I start thinking, I should go buy a two-liter of Pepsi. And maybe a Dr. Pepper too, for good measure.
I guess this is one of those areas in life where I have no choice but to trust God. I come across a lot of those. It's like God decided early in my life, "No. I'm going to take everything away from you and engineer your existence specifically so that you can't depend on anything else. All these people who single-handedly keep a Starbucks branch open, and drink a two-liter of Mountain Dew a day, you're not even going to have the option to be one of them." It can be exhausting.
I guess I'm grateful for that.
Thursday, November 25, 2010
If one could get tan in front of a computer, I'd be the envy of the block.
I am in the United States of America, and I realize what day this is in which I am writing. It's Thanksgiving Day. If I'm going to blog, there is an unwritten expectation that I should blog about the things for which I am thankful, or the subject of thankfulness itself.
As I've stated before, I don't hold to conventions. Aside from that, I think I do a fair job of expressing my gratitude in other posts throughout the year, yes? (That's a rhetorical question. Don't feel any obligation to answer.) So, like I always do, I shall write what's on my mind.
I'm tired of looking at a screen.
Wait? What? Did she say she's tired of looking at a screen? Then why is she posting this...on a screen?
Valid question. I'm taking the time to complain on a screen about how I don't want to look at a screen anymore. I realize this. Continuing on...
What with my affinity for Facebook and Twitter, my desire to blog and read blogs, and other such unnecessary things, I can spend a fair amount of time looking at a screen on my own. But the bulk of the reason my laptop and I are in such close proximity of each other so much of the time is because of school. I have e-mails to read from and to send to my professors and classmates on a regular basis. I have papers to write. Those papers and other projects require research, which I mostly do online.
Especially now that the end of the semester is nearing. It's crunch time. I have much to do in a short amount of time, and unfortunately most of it requires more bonding to my already-too-close friend of a computer. They say absence makes the heart grow fonder, but I wouldn't know.
The end of the semester is nearing and aside from the prospect of having no homework, the thing I'm looking forward to most is having every excuse to not have an electronic glow in front of my face. There will be people to look at squarely in the face whom I have been neglecting for three and a half months. There will be books to be read that have been lying forlorn for too long. There will be a whole passel of ingredients in the kitchen calling for me to make them into something palatally pleasing. All this along with a whole host of other things that I could not begin to enumerate. If it's not in front of a screen, I'm interested.
Don't get me wrong. I'm not going to disappear off the face of the Interweb the minute I'm out of school. I like knowing what people are doing too much for that. But after I exercise my Facebook stalker self, check my various e-mail accounts, visit messageboards, and spy out interesting tweets, I can walk away. For as long as I want to. Maybe even all day. Wow.
The arrival of the day this is possible is greatly anticipated. But first I have to live through the rest of the semester. On Tuesday, I have three big projects due. Which is why I'm spending my whole Thanksgiving break working. Then come finals a week and half later. I expect these next days to be a blur.
But really, when is my life not a blur? (That's another rhetorical question. You don't have to answer this one either.)
As I've stated before, I don't hold to conventions. Aside from that, I think I do a fair job of expressing my gratitude in other posts throughout the year, yes? (That's a rhetorical question. Don't feel any obligation to answer.) So, like I always do, I shall write what's on my mind.
I'm tired of looking at a screen.
Wait? What? Did she say she's tired of looking at a screen? Then why is she posting this...on a screen?
Valid question. I'm taking the time to complain on a screen about how I don't want to look at a screen anymore. I realize this. Continuing on...
What with my affinity for Facebook and Twitter, my desire to blog and read blogs, and other such unnecessary things, I can spend a fair amount of time looking at a screen on my own. But the bulk of the reason my laptop and I are in such close proximity of each other so much of the time is because of school. I have e-mails to read from and to send to my professors and classmates on a regular basis. I have papers to write. Those papers and other projects require research, which I mostly do online.
Especially now that the end of the semester is nearing. It's crunch time. I have much to do in a short amount of time, and unfortunately most of it requires more bonding to my already-too-close friend of a computer. They say absence makes the heart grow fonder, but I wouldn't know.
The end of the semester is nearing and aside from the prospect of having no homework, the thing I'm looking forward to most is having every excuse to not have an electronic glow in front of my face. There will be people to look at squarely in the face whom I have been neglecting for three and a half months. There will be books to be read that have been lying forlorn for too long. There will be a whole passel of ingredients in the kitchen calling for me to make them into something palatally pleasing. All this along with a whole host of other things that I could not begin to enumerate. If it's not in front of a screen, I'm interested.
Don't get me wrong. I'm not going to disappear off the face of the Interweb the minute I'm out of school. I like knowing what people are doing too much for that. But after I exercise my Facebook stalker self, check my various e-mail accounts, visit messageboards, and spy out interesting tweets, I can walk away. For as long as I want to. Maybe even all day. Wow.
The arrival of the day this is possible is greatly anticipated. But first I have to live through the rest of the semester. On Tuesday, I have three big projects due. Which is why I'm spending my whole Thanksgiving break working. Then come finals a week and half later. I expect these next days to be a blur.
But really, when is my life not a blur? (That's another rhetorical question. You don't have to answer this one either.)
Monday, November 22, 2010
If one could be hired to be a spectator, I would be the one to soon be fired.
I'm coming to learn that I am not a good spectator.
I am constantly seeking for something to do. Even when I'm tired, and I feel like I need a break, my idea of a break is never go space out and don't do anything. It's more like go read a book, or go write, or go sing, all things which I find to be rewarding and fulfilling, and which are still active verbs.
But I don't often find myself crying out for much of a break. I go to school, I do homework, I drive, I do things with people, I cook, I bake, I get up early on the weekends, I go to concerts. It takes a lot for me to feel the need to slow down.
Whenever I do go to something that is meant to be for spectators, I usually spectacularly fail to live up to my end of the arrangement. Some good examples would be graduations and various types of ballgames. Most of the ones I've been to have been spent by me talking. Primarily with my brother. He and I are good at doing that when we're together. While we do try to pay attention to what's happening around us, we're certainly not engrossed. Our conversation is so much more interesting. It's often conversation about what's happening in front of our faces, so we're not ignoring everything completely. I would be lying, though, if I didn't admit that most of our conversation had absolutely nothing to do with what's going on around us. We find each other to be amusing, and often when points are scored, if it weren't for people cheering, I wouldn't have a clue. So if I come to your game, and you see me yapping, and you start trying to talk to me after the fact about an amazing play that happened in the last five minutes, and I seem to have no clue what you're talking about, now you will know why. I have nothing against you, and I promise I will sit there rooting for you.
The concert setting is another good example. That's one of the biggest areas in which my hyperactivity has been made evident to me. I love going to hear live music. Performers capture my attention. But I am not good at filling the role of ordinary concert-goer. I'm okay when the music's playing, but when it's not, I always want to be doing something, and I feel out of place when I'm not. It started when I was young. My concert promoter uncle often needed help at the shows he was putting together, and I was eager to assist. In more recent years, I've made friends with Jason Gray and the band downhere, and as many times as I go see them, I always offer my help. I've also become involved with World Vision through child sponsorship, and I see the great good they are doing, so whenever there's a concert around where they're going to be, and they need volunteers to stand at the table and talk to people about sponsoring a child, then I make an effort to be there.
All of this has resulted in me being ancy whenever I go to a show and I have no responsibility for doing anything. I always still enjoy myself, but something just doesn't feel right, and I have a habit of looking around for even the slightest thing that I can do. If ever I find nothing, I tend to start picking up trash from the floor. (Actually, I tend to do that anyway. Garbage being anywhere but in the garbage can where it belongs is one of my biggest pet peeves. It drives me up the wall.) It's bad. I can't remember the last time I went to a concert and did nothing. There have been several lately that have threatened to be nights of spectating only, but I, of course, couldn't have that, and found at least one small thing to do before I left the premises.
And now it's 12:40 AM and I need to tell myself to stop and go to bed. I have to get up in a few hours. About five. And I have a theory test tomorrow. And Tuesday is my longest day. But there's so much I could be doing!
Go to bed, Emily!
Alright, then. If you insist.
I am constantly seeking for something to do. Even when I'm tired, and I feel like I need a break, my idea of a break is never go space out and don't do anything. It's more like go read a book, or go write, or go sing, all things which I find to be rewarding and fulfilling, and which are still active verbs.
But I don't often find myself crying out for much of a break. I go to school, I do homework, I drive, I do things with people, I cook, I bake, I get up early on the weekends, I go to concerts. It takes a lot for me to feel the need to slow down.
Whenever I do go to something that is meant to be for spectators, I usually spectacularly fail to live up to my end of the arrangement. Some good examples would be graduations and various types of ballgames. Most of the ones I've been to have been spent by me talking. Primarily with my brother. He and I are good at doing that when we're together. While we do try to pay attention to what's happening around us, we're certainly not engrossed. Our conversation is so much more interesting. It's often conversation about what's happening in front of our faces, so we're not ignoring everything completely. I would be lying, though, if I didn't admit that most of our conversation had absolutely nothing to do with what's going on around us. We find each other to be amusing, and often when points are scored, if it weren't for people cheering, I wouldn't have a clue. So if I come to your game, and you see me yapping, and you start trying to talk to me after the fact about an amazing play that happened in the last five minutes, and I seem to have no clue what you're talking about, now you will know why. I have nothing against you, and I promise I will sit there rooting for you.
The concert setting is another good example. That's one of the biggest areas in which my hyperactivity has been made evident to me. I love going to hear live music. Performers capture my attention. But I am not good at filling the role of ordinary concert-goer. I'm okay when the music's playing, but when it's not, I always want to be doing something, and I feel out of place when I'm not. It started when I was young. My concert promoter uncle often needed help at the shows he was putting together, and I was eager to assist. In more recent years, I've made friends with Jason Gray and the band downhere, and as many times as I go see them, I always offer my help. I've also become involved with World Vision through child sponsorship, and I see the great good they are doing, so whenever there's a concert around where they're going to be, and they need volunteers to stand at the table and talk to people about sponsoring a child, then I make an effort to be there.
All of this has resulted in me being ancy whenever I go to a show and I have no responsibility for doing anything. I always still enjoy myself, but something just doesn't feel right, and I have a habit of looking around for even the slightest thing that I can do. If ever I find nothing, I tend to start picking up trash from the floor. (Actually, I tend to do that anyway. Garbage being anywhere but in the garbage can where it belongs is one of my biggest pet peeves. It drives me up the wall.) It's bad. I can't remember the last time I went to a concert and did nothing. There have been several lately that have threatened to be nights of spectating only, but I, of course, couldn't have that, and found at least one small thing to do before I left the premises.
And now it's 12:40 AM and I need to tell myself to stop and go to bed. I have to get up in a few hours. About five. And I have a theory test tomorrow. And Tuesday is my longest day. But there's so much I could be doing!
Go to bed, Emily!
Alright, then. If you insist.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)