The Opinionated Life

Ever have a day where you are just bursting with opinions? Almost every day is like that for me. I can't say that my mind is constantly engaged in any and every subject of current debate. But I can say that where I am, I am physicaly and mentally engaged. I generally don't need to be on my phone or updating facebook when I'm in class or around people. This is because I'm not constantly wanting to be somewhere else. So if you ask me if I have an opinion on that, I either have an opinion or I can get one pretty fast.

So today I became one of THOSE people. Usually I have opinions in class, but I generally keep them to myself. This is partly out of fear that my opinion is stupid and partly out of fear that I'M stupid. But last night I had a sort of intellectual breakthrough. I was writing a paper for my media relations class and I began to write about my school and what kind of media relations I think it has in relation to my reading assignment. This came out then today in class. Suddenly, within the objective gates of political correctness, I voiced that my school's policy on having a passive media relations campaign sucked. When my school was faced with a sex-related crisis earlier this year, their policy was to stay silent. Whaaat? This literally means that everywhere I go, people think I go to a mental, rapist, conservative Christian college. There is literally NO public voice for my school on the web. Sure they have facebook and every fathomable form of media - but it's all controlled by internally generated media. Where is the student's voice? Where is the alumni? Where is the blogger and major news organizations? Where is the voice of the community? As a returning student, I value those opinions FAR more than an overwhelming amount of school-generated links about some new school program. If someone accused my organization of something, would I want to stay silent? Heck, no. I'd join the cause - I'd speak out against the problem! I would want to hear student's opinions! When you squelch those opinions and remain silence in response to accusations, you look so so guilty. What do you have to hide? Who cares if it's not politically correct or if one student doesn't get it right. Let your people talk! As it is people outside the organization are talking anyway - and it's ALL bad. By regulating free speech, the school has literally shut down all hope for positive word-of-mouth from those who truly know how great the school is; instead they feel the problem will 'go away' as long as the Christian church circles are kept happy and well-informed. The fact is, Christian circles are not deaf; they hear what the community and public think of my school. And while adults may be discerning of imbalanced public opinion, will 17 and 18 year olds?

This perspective of Christiantiy drives me nuts. Just because we're Christians doesn't mean we can hold ourselves to a lower standard when it comes to communicating with those outside of our circle. Honestly? Our alumni "circle" shrinks on a yearly basis! The student population is dropping! You really want to keep advertising and limiting yourself to your internal circle? That's like BP sending out an internal news memo after the oil spill, telling everyone the great things they're doing to improve the environment and encouraging everyone to think better thoughts about BP.

It's just frustrating because I literally see that my school offers such a great education but it is smothering itself in red tape from generations gone-by.

Guess what? Do I feel like I have to defend every Christian out there? Nope. You are going to meet people who claim to be a Christian and they don't even live by the Bible. They add to the Bible (which is why it's so easy for them to judge!) and they take away from the Bible (which is why they wrongly reason it's ok to forgive sexual abuse without considering the law!). You're going to meet all kinds of people who are good Christians and bad Christians - it's not because God is any less holy. It's because we ALL have a sin nature. Some people are just hypocrites! It doesn't change who our God is - He is still love and hope and justice and salvation. My sin means I deserve hell - God changed that story when He sent His Son to earth to die for my sins! This is why I don't feel the need to defend all Christian's - because in the end my ONLY association is with a holy God - not with an organization or a denomination. So if I were the school's president, I would literally have gotten down and joined the protesting against sexual abuse in the church myself. Because I don't support sexual abuse in the church - and neither does my school. It's a good school- it teaches great values/work ethic - and it's a solid, well-rounded education. But by remaining SILENT - guess what people assume?

I guess I'm so passionate about this one because now this organization reflects ME. It all goes back to economics - regardless of what values we hold, we all have a self-interest.

Sigh. I didn't even touch on my opinions that I contributed to Economics class today. I was going to wax eloquent on how the minimum wage discourages employers from hiring people at their true worth. Where is the incentive to hire people with disabilities when you are forced to pay every person the same fixed amount, regardless of what skills that person has to offer. So instead of hire someone at a lower amount, some people go without jobs and other people have no incentive to work harder at their job when they're paid the same amount as someone who barely works at all! Don't even get me started on our disability system - I worked in healthcare! Soooo many people made it their full-time job to try to get on disability - do you think they wanted to work at all after getting awarded? Nope. In fact time after time I met people who were ABLE to work but would lose their disability check if they went back to work or worked too many hours. So what we have is the middle-class supporting the person who CAN work at least a little bit but is afraid to jeopradize the benefit of NOT working.

Like I said, it's just flowing from me today. Is it politically incorrect? Most likely. Does everyone agree with my opinions? Of course not. Do I care? Nope.

I should probably go for a run or think about something else or I'm going to start losing my few friends! :)

The Non-Descript

Today was a non-descript day. Literally as I sit here I can't remember anything about it. Now that's REAL short-term memory loss. I'm doing good in school. I read a teleprompter in a TV news studio at 8 a.m. Nothing's so good or so bad that I feel it itching out of my fingertips. I bought some coconut milk and I hate it - that's probably the most exciting thing of the day. That and I really like the show Suits. It's ok to have this kind of day. It's a time to remember home and what it feels like to sit by the lake. These even-keel days make me appreciate the highs and lows that are sure to come. :)

Busy=College Life=Sleep

This week=20 hours of work, plus full-time school, plus a social life. Me=Pooped. Today was stressful above-average. That may have had something to do with the fact that I saw a dead body before 9 a.m. Or it may be that my 24 oz. to-go mug of home-brewed morning roast coffee and hazlenut creamer just didn't fully wake me up.  Too much homework? Or is it the fact that I went on a date last night and despite my fervent hints at being "exhausted", he kept me out to 10:30 p.m. playing tennis, eating frozen yogurt, and talking? Yeah, I'm spoiled.

Regardless, at the end of the day, I've lived a full day. I can tuck up the covers and know my rest is well-deserved. Except...I forgot to put my laundry in the dryer. Crap. Well, honestly at this level of exhaustion, I don't need sheets; I could fall asleep on solid wood. I certainly proved that in church tonight (oops)....

Blogging Again! What I've been doing for the last 5 years....

For the past five years I've written pretty much every night. I'd get through my day and I'd make a decision - do I pillow my head and be unable to recall tomorrow what I did today - or do I write about it? So although I haven't written here, I've written. Page after page - now collecting dust in wide-ruled 10 cent notebooks in my parents attic. It has driven me and constantly made me think - wait, could I be doing more with my life? I don't live at my parents anymore. Yay - I can finally say that! I can also say that I've broken up and been broken up with. I've "dropped out" of college and gone back to college. I've been a financial counselor, a translator, a nanny, a photographer, a tutor, a barista, a billionaire - o wait, not that last one.

I can't write about the last 5 years. I like to write every night for a reason - undiagnosed short-term memory loss! But I CAN write about today. Today I bumped into an old friend - ok a really cute old classmate. He reminded me of freshman year, cutting up in class, writing lame sonnets to each other, always giving the English 103 literature teacher a different interpretation to "chew" on that he had never heard before. Nate asked me out to an artist series event but I had already agreed to go with someone else. I always wondered, how would that night have gone differently if I had just said - what the heck, you're more fun? Instead, my date accidentally took me to the men's restroom line and I ended up getting felt up that night by a guy who thought my leg was his girlfriend's leg. I think I deserve a do-over.

Anyway, eventually, he got in his circle and I got in mine and I forgot about him until last week when I ran into him while I was on a date (I tried to act like I didn't see him). Then today in a coffee shop I ran into him again, swallowed my pride, and said hey. It was like the sun rose twice today - he just brightened up my day. Then I ran across his blog tonight -- it's just as old as mine is. I forgot how good he was at writing and it inspired me. It made me think....why not share what I'm writing since I'm going to write anyways. There's really no point in hiding it - I've become sickeningly interesting with all my insights on life - it's a little selfish to keep that to myself, don't you agree? :)

Where I am now, I'm a little starved for people. Like, there are people everywhere, but then again they are just masses of PEOPLE - everywhere. When I ran into Nate tonight, I'm just positive I was too much. His energy fed off my energy and vice versa and it was like an atomic bomb of energy. I'm so used to being around people that lately in the last couple weeks I'm just WEIRD around people. I'm too excited to be their friend! I probably shouldn't be working at a funeral home.... Oh yeah, I work at a funeral home now. Relax, I work at a cubicle writing obituaries. I confess-  I just started working there and I still get a little freaked out. But it's a job! Still, no late hours for this girl!!

The crazy thing with my whole mulling over friendships is that I'm totally cool with solitarity. I like my space...my independence. I almost like my plain-Jane moments with my notebook and my coffee and my old glasses. In that moment I'm free to be anything. I'm not cut from a mold or desiring the interference of society to form me into a certain trophy. But then again, I need people. When I'm with people - my world brightens! I see purpose in the world - to help others. I am thrilled to be recognized, to build relationships, and to make a difference. Some (like my brother's dumb friend) would say that's a defect - a flaw. I'd say it's who I am. I'd say that people are my life. THere is nothing sadder in my mind than wasting a day. A day filled with ONLY knowledge and education and training and money is a day lost. A day forging relationships is a day I can leave behind, confident that it's ok if it's my last.

Oh my. My brother's friend just texted me and said his new plan to woo girls is - "Look nice, smell nice, BE nice." This is the same friend that brought peach pie over tonight for movie night. I literally felt like I was selling my body in return for peach pie. To me there is nothing attractive about sweatpants and a t-shirt (which is why I wore them!). But he had already seen the movie and was just....watching me. I even called him out on it and then he spends the rest of the night texting me telling me all my flaws and how he's totally over me now.

There will always be haters. There will be those people that want you to be just like them. I say break free, don't be pottery - mold it, don't chase dreams - make dreams come true for others, don't divide your heart - multiply it.

Spoiler alert

A lot of my mornings are quiet now. I wake up late, and I don't go to work, because for the first time since eleventh grade, I'm not working a minimum-wage job. You could say I'm having a two month vacation from life-- college, bills, parents, and fast food restaurants that crave my employment-- a vacation from all of it while I stay at my sisters.

Ironically, when I'm not faced with stressful home quarters or college schedules or urgent bills that disappointingly look like checks, I don't really want to write. What is there to scream out against or rally to the cause for? For these two months, I've ridden on a virtual free ride of late mornings, poker nights, holding my baby niece, back-to-back seasons of monk, the office, friends, CSI.... All things I would dream of once I finally fell into bed at 2 a.m. after work during this last year of college. And yet, now that most conflict is gone, I don't feel the need to fight or be challenged or the passion to write.

When I look at my sister, I understand her reason to write. I've always blogged about crap. But she never even considered a blog account until she had a reason to write. That little reason that has her writing also has her up at painfully dark hours, calming her little reason while throwup leaks down her shirt and into her hair, and has her twisting her back at impossible angles to be the perfect everything to everyone when I know all she wants is time with her little girl.

Anyways, that should explain why I haven't been writing even though I have endless time on my hands. Yes, be jealous all you want, but it's back to reality in two weeks and I'm sure I'll have plenty of heated things to say about the job market, and the horrors of living at home at the age of 20, and how exciting single life is supposed to be, bla bla bla. Now that I look back on all this, I get the sense that I am incredibly spoiled. Maybe.

New Faces

The day a baby is born, someone in the family looks beyond the scrawny legs and blue-veined skin and begins peering at that baby, trying to deduce who in the family she looks like. Meet Addison--the carbon copy of my sister, her mother.

My sister likes to think Addison got her stubborness from her. I'll give her that. Never have I met a more stubborn person than my sister. I had to laugh when I heard her telling Addison that she might be just as stubborn as her mommy, but mommy is bigger and has the advantage. But where does she get her expressiveness from?  Maybe Aunt Andi? Regardless, nannying today went well. Quiet and agreeable--so that was a nice change from last night when I witnessed her vomit into my sisters arms about three times and then deliver an astoundingly dirty diaper which I think I will be able to smell all week. While I looked on in flinching horror, I couldn't help but be impressed by her mother. Patient. Just rocking her back and forth and giving her all the pity she could desire. So I was thankful that Addison decided to reflect that attribute of her mother today. Patience.

Knowing your fears

I am terrified.

The emergency numbers are on the table, and beside it is my cellphone, and then beside that is a back up cellphone in case the first one doesn't work. A signed paper is in a bag, verifying that I have the right to request medical treatment. This sits beside a box of special equipment I need to grab if there are problems. I would prefer that thunder is crashing around me, ominous darkness threatens the view of the mountains outside the bay window, or a dark-clothed figure is breaking down the door. But, alas no. Instead, deceptively calming nursery songs are playing, the low hum of oxygen rumbles in the kitchen, and the click-click of a swing rocking back and forth attempts to lull me into a false sense of security. And within that swing, lies the source of my fear-- all nine pounds and some odd ounces of her.

"Hah, Addison," I say as I plop myself on a couch directly opposite her. "Now if you sneeze, I'll know," I warn, watching her intently. She doesn't seem to care, as she stares in fascination up toward the whiny bell music that is coming from her swing. She clutches the oxygen tube coming from her nose, and I take out a book and pretend to read.

She whimpers and I come half way out of my chair. "Please, go to sleep," I beg. Five minutes later, I witness only slightly delayed obedience. I've been with her for four days now, but this is the first time I have been left alone to be solely responsible for the life of a tiny little miracle.

In my head, I've been writing about Addison for about two weeks. This year when I first wanted to write about Addison, I wrote an article about her for my column in my university newspaper. But I was limited to 500 words, and frankly realized that the four thousand other students my age would probably be too focused on studies, dating, and career seminars to care about a baby born with special needs. I was wrong, though. People were fascinated with a baby who constantly fought against the odds of pulmonary hyptertension, transient lukemia, two holes in her heart, and down syndrome and would ask me for updates and stop by my dorm door to see new pictures. All year I had been recieving updates on Addison from a distance, praying for her, and getting excited to see her and it was two weeks ago around the time of exams that I began realizing with some alarm that in a matter of days I would be able to give others the udpates, since I would be nannying her for two months.

So here I am. Changing diapers for the first time and holding and bottle feeding a baby for the first time. All while watching my sister, who tells me laughingly, "I'm no baby expert either. I only started learning three and a half months ago."

I've never been much of a baby person and lately I've had that "ew" expression on my face, simply blown away by the large noises, sounds, and smells a baby can produce. But my favorite part is watching the way people react to Addison, with tons of baby faces and questions, and watching how resilient and flexible my sister has been, even after Addison's heart surgery in Boston this last week. The fact that she's back at work while I'm here with Addison is an obvious testimony to that.

 

So I guess this is another thing on my list that I've never done before and thought I could never do. It was Saturday morning cartoons that gave me an interesting perspective on overcoming your fears. I was just walking by the television when I caught a phrase from one of those hopelessly uninteresting blue bunny characters. "Well the more you know about something, the less you'll be scared of it!"

One extremely messy diaper, change of clothes and long bottle feeding later, and I'm sure I'm well on my way to knowing Miss Addison.