In a few words...

Electricity

meredith — Mon, 27 Jun 2011 16:24:31 +0000

There are days when I feel I have nothing to write about. I have a million things in my brain, but I can’t seem to get the electricity flowing from my head to my hands. Although I can say that there is, without a doubt, a tug and a longing in my heart to write. I’ve felt it for weeks now. But, despite my inability to get anything out, this is the clearest my head has been in a long time. I’m feeling the desire to get out of my little box and experience things. I’m planning more trips, and I’m seriously contemplating jumping out of an airplane (one of my greatest fears). So, to help me find my power switch I’m going to do something I rarely do; I’m asking for some feed back from the few of you who actually read my rambling. Tell me what it is that makes you happy, the things you do just for yourself. And then tell me a few things you’re afraid of doing, whether it’s jumping out of an airplane or being alone. Hopefully then I will find my spark and be able to churn out a post that for the first time, isn’t written from a point of crazy desperation. Let me know and I will be forever thankful.

bird nest

meredith — Sat, 25 Jun 2011 17:35:52 +0000

Well, here I am. It’s been a long time since I’ve written a blog post, or even written down my thoughts in the notebook by my bed. I know what I wanted to do with my writing when I last posted, but between starting full-time work, moving out on my own, managing a relationship, a dog-child, and all the other responsibilities that come with newly acquired adulthood, my brain got shoved into the linen closet. I stopped writing completely. I settled into a routine and it was cozy. But I lost part of myself. I let go of the one thing that has always kept me grounded. And now, life has rudely shoved me out of my little birds nest and I am falling flat on my face. There is a 5-year-old little boy at the base of the little tree I built my life in and he is shaking it violently. The harder he shakes the tighter I hold on, because I’m not ready. I don’t want my whole life to change yet. I’ve been dreaming and planning and I don’t want to say goodbye to my precious and delicate blueprints yet. I literally feel like I’ve been grasping with all my strength and there is a force on the other end pulling me. It is not a fun game of tug-of-war, and I am losing terribly. But, my grip is beginning to loosen. I’m coming to terms with what is happening day by day. My life is being split in half but I’ll bounce back. It is one of the most difficult things I’ve ever had to do because I put all of myself into what I really thought was the direction my life was heading. But I know my way through this road and although it sometimes feels like I’m backtracking, I’m really just getting stronger. I’m landing on my own two feet with the help of a strong support system I forgot I even had. I’m grateful my hand is being held, and at the end of the day I know I’m not walking alone.

I’m growing against my will, and being pulled and stretched tighter than I ever thought possible. My brain has been on information overload analyzing all the things I have said and done to end up where I am. I’m tired and I’m hurting but I have also been tiring and hurtful. When I began this road over a year ago, I believed I knew myself and had healed from the trauma and drama of my college years, but I’m beginning to believe I wasn’t prepared. I haven’t been able to perfect the art of holding on to myself while at the same time giving of myself, although I truly thought I could. There is a certain healthy tension that I simply have not been mature enough to settle. I’ve given all of myself away instead of taking time to make sure I’m doing the things I love and need to stay healthy. And in my experience, life has a funny way of slapping me in the face right before it’s too late. I’m learning the hard way that my plans are not always God’s plans, and that sometimes love isn’t enough although I want more than anything for that to be the case. The right thing is rarely the easy thing, and life does not understand euphemisms. I’m suddenly leaping back to the things I know I do best. Reading, writing, talking, breathing. I’m taking each day moment by moment because I feel differently in each and every one. I thought I knew what I was doing with my life, and I thought I had it all together, but things unravel very quickly and if carefulness, thoughtfulness, and self-respect are not practiced, it will be very bad, very fast.

I know I will heal in time. I’m learning to let my yes be yes, and my no mean no. I’m accepting the feeling of free fall and dwelling on the fact that the Joy of the Lord is my strength. I’m disappointed, but I’ve also been disappointing and for that all I can say is that I am sorry.

This is the end of my coma. I won’t let myself hibernate any longer. (Even though it’s really easy and I am an expert hibernator.) There will hopefully be more to come, and as much as I wanted to quit talking about myself and address the real problems of the real world, sometimes the best discoveries are through self observation. And hopefully, maybe someone else can find strength in my struggles.

whoops

meredith — Sat, 15 May 2010 06:55:16 +0000

Ok..so I haven’t written in forever, I know. Sorry about that.. I got caught up with the mundane business of life, as well as the annoyance at the fact that everyone has a blog these days.

I’m going to be honest- I don’t read most people’s blogs. Maybe that’s rude considering the fact that I want people to read what I have to write, but seriously, no one wants to hear about the swimsuit you still need to buy, or the fact that you discovered a new diet trick. We get enough useless information these days without having to read about your shopping ventures.

So instead of being thoroughly annoyed with the blog world (a.k.a. the daily outline of my life) my new thing will be this: instead of writing about myself like my last 27 posts, I’m going to try and pick a topic to write on. I’ll so some research and attempt to blog about an issue going on in the world, or really just anything that I think needs attention. I’m trying to get away from the whole self thing because we seriously exist too selfishly. Between Facebook and the stalker website Twitter (yes, I do have one…kinda hypocritical, I know.) we are constantly thinking about I, I, I. What am I doing today? What am I thinking about? What do I need? But quite frankly, who cares? The world could be such a better place if for five minutes we all did something WITHOUT the thought of “What am I getting out of this?”. Please though, don’t hold me too tight to this, because even though I’m going to do my very best to turn the spotlight off myself, quite a bit of my material comes from serious self observation.

With that being said, I’m now going to talk about myself.

ha. kidding.

tradition

meredith — Sat, 20 Mar 2010 19:20:41 +0000

Last night I had dinner with my mom and sister at a little Pizza/Pasta place. The setting was meant to be nice; the lights were dim, and there was an old musician playing songs like Brown Eyed Girl over in the corner, but the fake ivy stapled on the ceiling, and the paper napkins gave it a cheap edge. It was crowded, and as my mom went from table to table greeting people she knew, my sister and I trailing behind like disciplined assistants, we realized she’s taught almost every child in the place how to swim (She’s a swim teacher in the Summer). Finally we sat down at a strategically chosen table, and as my eyes continued to adjust to the darkness in the room, I began my typical restaurant routine of people watching. Looking around at the five closest tables, I realized that there are 5 different definitions of family all in the same room. Now, these people might not have actually lived they same way they ate, but it sure did seem like it. To my left, a gay couple shared a bottle of wine and ate Chicken Marsala as they discussed who knows what. Directly in front of me sat two women with an obviously close relationship, two bottles of wine and about five children. Dressed in jeweled ‘Miss Me’ jeans, tight, low-cut tops, and huge shiny bracelets and rings, these two sparkled so much I wondered if the room would only get darker when they left. They continued on in their deep, meaningful conversation, all the while ignoring the kids dancing around barefoot with stuffed dinosaurs. On the other side of the single mother club, a mom and a dad sat with their two girls. The ideal American family. Since my mother had been their swim teacher, we had already had a conversation about where they were headed after dinner. Family movie night. How adorable. And then there was the elderly couple with a child, who probably had been thrust upon them in the aftermath of a nasty custody battle. And then the middle-aged parents with the adopted asian kid. How fashionable.

Now don’t take my sarcasm as disapproval. I very much approve of adoption, or court appointed parents, or single mothers if that is truly the best solution or only solution in the case of death or true loss of ability. But what is family? What is marriage? What are we teaching younger generations? Is a family anyone you can rely on? Marriage is no longer a covenant relationship between a man and a woman to love each other forever and raise their kids, God-willing, up in a morally acceptable way; but now it’s just a more efficient way to live together until it doesn’t work out anymore and kids are just a by-product. A family should consist of people you can always trust and who will always love you unconditionally. Maybe if people weren’t so selfish kids would grow up and learn how to trust, how to love, and how to commit to something. These days, betrayal is so rampant that it’s often expected. I for one am guilty of that. If someone like me, who has parents who’ve been married for 23 years and grandparents for 54 expects betrayal, then ones younger than me must think it’s inevitable. If I think it could happen they can only wait for it to happen. Sisters betray trust by slandering one another to gain acceptance from a mother, wives let themselves go and husbands cheat to get revenge - be it pornography or going all out and having an affair. But no revenge, slander, or betrayal accomplishes what it was meant to do. It only generates bitterness, brokenness, and self loathing.

Let’s stop being selfish and hateful and reintroduce the idea of a covenant marriage and a trustworthy family.

Definition

meredith — Fri, 12 Mar 2010 08:22:03 +0000

I want to live a life with no walls. I had another melt down tonight about stupid stuff in my life. I’m such a girl, good Lord. But as I laid awake in bed thinking about everything that just spilled out tonight, I started trying to think of what defines me. The word definition is “the statement of the exact meaning of a word, or an exact statement or description of the nature, scope, or meaning of something”. For some people, material things define them. For others, it’s entirely spiritual matters. And then there are those who define themselves and others by the amount of success or security. I’m not in school, and neither is my man. I’m not going to let the fact that I don’t have a college degree define me. I can’t tell you how tired I am of feeling like if I’m not paying $15,000 a year and taking minimum 12 hours, I won’t do anything with my life. It is completely ridiculous that either of us should be made to feel less than enough just because College Algebra is not on the resume. My worth is NOT based on a piece of paper. It’s not in the amount of money I can make, or the things I can purchase, or what I can give away.

I want my definition to be this:

Meredith: (noun), someone who lives upright, someone who is making a difference in the lives of people. A trustworthy, genuine, and loving person.

My past will not define me. My friends, family, and hometown will not define me. Drugs and alcohol will not define me (It’s not a problem now, so don’t worry). I can’t control what people will think of me, but I can control what I think of myself, and how I behave. I know I am called to something greater than living a meaningless existence writing a lit analysis of Kafka, Fitzgerald, or Woolf. I want to travel, I want to write, and I want to change someone’s life. I want to give clean water to a little boy in Africa who has never had the opportunity to taste fresh, cold water. I want to rescue a girl from human trafficking and tell her that she is NOT a sex object, that she is valuable and worth loving. I want to give second chances, and I firmly believe it is a realistic dream.

I don’t have to have a stupid degree to make a difference.

I’m breaking down the boundaries and definitions society has placed on me, and I’m going to do what I want to do. I dare you to do the same. Try it, and see what happens.

Organic Thoughts?

meredith — Sat, 27 Feb 2010 23:35:34 +0000

Last night I was watching TLC’s new show Four Weddings, where four brides judge each others weddings to see who threw the better party. The winner gets an all expense paid luxury honeymoon. At one point, one of the brides said something about being organic, and I started thinking. It’s strange how one word can set my mind in motion.

I began thinking about organic foods and how I try to eat foods free of chemical enhancement and pesticides, and meat without antibiotics or growth hormones. I try to keep it as natural and homegrown as possible, except for the occasional trip to Chick-Fil-A or Whataburger. But then I started thinking, I’m so careful about what I put into my body, but why am I not as careful when I put things in my mind? Why do I allow myself to fill up on negative things like poor self-esteem, angry thoughts, bad behavior, rude people, and so on. I already block out things like horror films and really degrading music, but other things like words and actions are much more difficult. Sometimes when I’m upset I say hurtful things I know I don’t actually mean, and I do things like tell a little white lie every now and then, but why? Why act in a way that is chemically all wrong and so unwholesome? I’m trying to detox myself. I need to get rid of all the high fructose corn syrup, and rBGH that’s sticking around in my head. It’s not good for health and only harms my quality of life.

So now, while I’m depositing my entire paycheck at Whole Foods, I guess I need to start looking for little ways to deposit my brain into wholesome, homegrown style thinking. A little volunteer work here, a little smile at the bookstore clerk or a prayer there ought to do the trick.

running out of motivation

meredith — Mon, 22 Feb 2010 21:35:39 +0000

I hate running. Especially in the cold. My chest hurts and my lungs hurt and my mouth gets dry and sticky. It’s the worst. But I always attempt to make myself be a runner. Throughout the past year, I have started running and stopped running like every other month. I do so well at first, and I start training for some marathon I’ve convinced myself I’m going to run 4 months from now, and then something happens. I go on a weekend trip, or I take a sick day or whatever other excuse I can come up with, and I lose momentum. I lose the drive. I’ve realized that’s the philosophy I’ve lived my whole life with.

I realize this now because of the way I behave with my classes and my jobs. I feel like if I could commit to actually make running a stable part of my un-routined (yes, I know that isn’t a real word.) life I could actually commit to other things as well. Maybe I wouldn’t skip class so much or be consistently 2 minutes late to work all the time.

Who want’s to be my running partner?

And how do I keep my drive? More than four people have told me seriously that I should go to law school after college. It sounds interesting and I know I could benefit from it considering that a Law degree is far more valuable than a Writing degree, but it just sounds like so. much. work. and I just can’t seem to commit. So, how can one become driven and motivated? Is it possible to do just out of thin air? Like one minute I feel lazy and useless in my bed and the next I’m applying to Law school? Or is it a gradual process, a one-tiny-baby-step-at-a-time kinda thing that takes years to move a foot? I just don’t see it happening. Take this blog for example. I started out with a bang, writing every day these crazy blogs that came from so deep within they rocked me with every word I wrote, and then I just stopped. My word well suddenly went dry. Maybe I just need to learn to pace myself, but I’ve always been an all or nothing kinda girl.

I guess I just need some words of wisdom here.

Boxes

meredith — Sat, 20 Feb 2010 17:27:08 +0000

Last night I stayed up late thinking about the day I moved home right before Christmas. I remembered how weird it felt to be able to pack up my whole life into boxes. I think I had somewhere around 15 of them. Even though I felt like that was all of me, I’m learning that there is much more to me than a picture frames, books, and a closet full of clothes. I consist of contradictions. Truth and lies, beauty and ugliness, and for every good quality I have, a bad one lives. I want to get to the point where only the good remains and the bad is no longer a part of who I am. I want positivity instead of negativity. I want goodness instead of bitterness, and whole heart instead of the worn out dishrag of a heart I have now. The box of my life is overcrowded and too complex. I can’t fit everything I want to hold on to because I’ve filled it up with so many worthless things. So as painful as it might get, I’m going to flip my box over, empty out all the contents, and discard the things I really don’t need in my life. I’ve already begun this process a little bit, but I have a long way to go. I’ve already managed to remove two things that we’re seriously holding me back. Now if I could just shake loose the rest of it…

Sometimes I feel like I could benefit from a therapist.

The List is back.

meredith — Sun, 14 Feb 2010 03:32:01 +0000

Go Brunette
Get a dog
Take a class and only skip once
Stop eating fast/fried foods
Become more honest with people
Say 10 positive things each day
Write more often
Put a sweater on it (my mom’s best friend taught me that. It means if something is not uplifting to someone, stop the gossip.)
Do not fall in love. Take time to heal, and love yourself before someone else
Celebrate who I am

So after spending the last thirty minutes reviewing my previous posts, I’ve realized I’ve already forgotten most of what I’ve written in the past few months.

I rediscovered the list.

It’s mid February and the only thing I’ve honestly managed to accomplish from the list is number two: Get a dog. I suppose that technically I’ve begun numbers nine and five, due to the fact that I want nothing to do with men and relationships, and I’ve made it known to everyone close to me. Numbers four and seven are CLEARLY overlooked and made noticeable just by looking at the number of posts since December, or the ever-morphing squishiness that is supposed to be my stomach/abs. I’ve already done way less writing in the past few weeks and gained five (FIVE) pounds since being home. Lord help me- DVR and Devil’s Food Cake will not get the best of me! For the rest of the things on the list, well, I guess I’m just going to have to try to do better. Maybe if I could get my lazy butt out of my cozy, warm bed before ten a.m. I could say 10 positive things while celebrating who I am because I stopped eating fast food. Sadly though, 30 degree weather freezes my lungs and puts my wimpy little (ha) rear end back on the couch for some hot, strong coffee, sugary oatmeal, and a few hours of DISH TV before work.

Hopefully the majority of this list will honestly be accomplished by the summertime, but I’m not holding my breath. I’ll be doing well just to stop baking so many flipping cupcakes. (I’m blaming the Martha Stewart-ness on my new apron). But in the mean time, I’m going to continue to reflect on the things I’ve written, and the 180 my life has taken since leaving school while devouring the heavenly chocolate covered strawberries I received for house sitting this weekend.

oh happy day.

Math Class

meredith — Fri, 12 Feb 2010 20:31:01 +0000

My mom is a junior high math teacher. A few days ago I stopped by her classroom to drop something off to her and she happened to be in the middle of a lesson, so just to be funny, I sat down in a desk on the front row. What I didn’t realize though was that I would freak out and start panicking because I couldn’t remember how to solve seventh grade algebra. All my life I’ve been awful at math. I mean really, really bad. So bad that my most embarrassing moment of 2009 happened because of simple math at work. But the point I’m trying to make is that right then when I was sitting in that desk, I realized that my life is a LOT like math class. My romance section is full of problems I can’t solve, and it causes extreme anxiety and panic attacks. (Ok maybe not that bad, but close..). And not only that, but other things happen that I can’t control. Problems hit me from left and right, and just like a math equation, you can’t change the variables to solve the problem. You have to deal with what you are given. It’s set in stone. In English, you can change things up. You can edit a piece 1,000 times to answer the prompt and get the exact tone you want, but not in math. There is a specific way to answer every problem. But is that really how life is? Is there really only one correct formula for every problem you have in life? If there is, I surely don’t know it. I live my life like I write my essays; rough and messy but rewritten over and over to hopefully create a sharp, precise final copy. Sometimes I feel like I’m making the same mistakes just so I can try a different way to solve it. That’s crazy, but I eventually solve the problem and move on. I guess it just takes a little longer than most people (or I) might like.

Maybe if I were good at math, I wouldn’t have so many problems. (just kidding).

I’m learning to ask my teacher for help when I don’t know how to work the long division of friendships, or the multiplication of things in my family, because I just can’t do it on my own. As much as I’d like to believe I can, sometimes you just can’t make it on your own.

P.S. -I want to face my terrifying fear of heights and go skydiving this spring. Who’s coming?