Where I Come From

I am graduating from college in less than a month. Recently i have found myself wondering where I am from, where my home is, and where I am going. It’s been rather difficult. I moved around a few times as a child. There were places where I never felt like I fit, and places I felt completely myself. Then last year with the break-up of my parents, the idea of home seemed more elusive than ever. Today in class, we read a poem by George Ella Lyon called “Where I’m From”. I recommend everyone take the time to look that up and read it. But, in turn, we each wrote our own poems. (I guess I’m in a very poetic state of mind with this class). So, here seems to be my answer about “Where I Come From”?

Where I Come From

I come from Lemonade stands,

from North Carolina Barbeque and Block Parties.

I am from tree climbing, the hole in the fence, and eating watermelon in my underwear

with sweet sicky juices running down my body.

I’m from Boxcar Children books,

Shel Silverstein and Louis Sacchar.

I’m from Disney VHS tapes watched a million times over,

David the Gnome, Grilled Cheese, and “Stories out of the Mouth.”

I am from a slap on the face and

“Kiss your sister and make up.”

I am from “Cattie” not Katie,

and the love/hate relationship that comes with sisterhood.

I am from backyard teap parties, dress-up games,

and rushing home to play maids in our white slips after church.

I still have the old diaries, where I was half committed,

so they’re barely written in,

old photo albums full of blurred pictures,

because my hand didn’t fit around the camera just yet.

But I still remember the moments.

I am from those moments–

smudged, scratched out, a little too dark, with a thumbprint in the corner–

but they are mine.

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Music

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What’s your metaphor for life?

At the beginning of every senior seminar class, we read a poem. Today’s poems were about metaphors for life. I felt that one of them truly spoke to how I am feeling right now. It is about a father and daughter speaking about their outlooks on life.

the drum

daddy says the world is

a drum tight and hard

and i told him

i’m gonna beat

out my own rhythm

-nikki giovanni

The poem spoke to me, because I am used to people telling me that the world is harsh. I am used to people telling me what to do and the right way to live. And, I am used to living according to the rules. With few exceptions, I have been the good girl, always doing what is expected. I never stepped out or rebelled as many expected me to.

But now, I am a senior. I graduate exactly one month from today, and I want freedom. I feel the urge to do things that are unexpected, to carve my own path. I would rather go out and try something completely me, and fail miserably, than to go the safe route and end up miserable. For the first time in my life, I want to be completely wild.

After reading the drum, our professor asked us to give our own example of what out metaphor for life is. After reflecting and hearing other people’s opinions, I came to the conclusion that life is a river.

The River of Life

Life is like a river, ever flowing, ever changing.

It is funny that people sometimes try to dam these rivers up,

because you cannot harness that which does not want to be

Sometimes when the water flows too much, and the storms come–

the dam will break.

Sometimes the course of a river changes,

it goes in a completely different direction than it did many years ago.

While the changing can disrupt the natural order;

it can also create new life and plentiful growth

Sometimes eddies are formed,

whirling, tumultuous, and a bit stagnant

Life is a river,

because sometimes they just dry up.

What “type” are you?

I recently went on a date with this guy who asked me, right off the bat,”What type of girl are you?”. Honestly, I didn’t have an answer at the time. Different stereotypes played through my head. I think I’m a little mix of everything– sporty, nerdy, artsy, laid back, uptight, sweet, sassy, girl next door, tomboy. I was one of those people in high school that never really could find their “clique”. I was a floater. I guess I still am.

But, since then, I’ve thought more about it. How would I describe myself? Who am I?

I don’t think there’s an archetype of “Emily”. I’m an individual.

I’m spunky and funloving, and I love to go out and have a good time with my friends. I am a drama queen, who sometimes takes things too seriously in life. I cherish my friends and family more than anything, but frequently just enjoy being able to escape from them. I fall in love easily, and I don’t think I ever really recover from heartbreak. I like to have serious debates on topics that are considered intellectual, but if you asked me about the riots in Tibet, then I admit my knowledge would be minimal. I can eat a watermelon contest against full grown men. I grew up as a tomboy, climbing trees and playing sports. But, I hate being called “one of the guys”. I am one of those people that would do anything for my friends. I am the reliable one. I am one of those extremely self conscious people that you would probably never suspect to be self-conscious, because I’m constantly talking. I don’t have a fear of public speaking, more of a fear of public opinion. I need constant validation in my life. Smiling and laughing are my favorite pastimes, but it doesn’t take much for me to cry. I don’t see the point in spending tons of money on name brand or designer things. I am a dog person. I’m terrified of the ocean and everything in it, which may stem from watching the movie Jaws at a young age. Scary movies make me cry. Bellyflop contests freak me out, because I had to send a kid to the hospital one year for the bruises he received. I’m independent, and I don’t like being told what to do. I’m extremely competitive. Around 2 AM is the worst time to talk to me, I am usually so emotional that I say things I don’t mean to or regret. There are days when all I want in the world is fall apart and have someone scoop me up and put me back together.

I feel like this entire paragraph doesn’t even fully describe my personality and my quirks. I also think that I am still growing and learning who I am as a person. If that’s true, how would I be able to come up with a two word characterization of myself that presumably tells someone what they need to know about me. I think that it’s impossible. Maybe it’s just me, but that’s the thing that I love most about people– their complexities. I love learning the intricate details of their lives. I guess that’s the thrill of dating, is that you get to meet someone knew and learn new things about that person each day. So stereotyping on date number one would probably take all the fun out of it for me. Instead of learning about the other person, I’d be content to fill in the blanks by inserting my preconceived notions. I’m not even sure where these stereotypes come from, to be honest. If each person has their own story to tell, their own personal characteristics that make them unique, then that would make the stereotypes completely false, and also a faulty way of judging a persons personality.

I say just let it be. Don’t try to fit people into a box. Everyone, especially those of us still in college, are still trying to figure ourselves out anyway. So, instead of categorizing, just stay along for the ride. Who knows, you might make a crucial contribution!

The Real Power of Words

Right now I’m in a creative writing class. It’s a three hour class once a week, and a lot of the time we will spend half of that time talking world selections. Some words are more powerful than others. As far as my writing goes, I would probably have to agree– some phrases sound a lot better and are more fun to read. But, I’d have to say in real life, it’s not how strong your adjectives or verbs are, it is the way in which you use them that make them powerful.

Growing up, we were always lectures about words meaning a lot, and how words could hurt people. I spoke to a teenage friend of mine earlier this week, she’s a freshman in high school. She asked me for help in dealing with her best friend, who is apparently suicidal. I would have to say that it’s rough enough as a teenager without people sending text messages to you, telling you to “kill yourself already”. Words can mean a lot.

But, words are also powerful in other ways. I already blogged about this earlier this week, but words are imperative for sticking up for your beliefs. When someone is doing something you don’t agree with, it takes an extremely strong person to stand up for themselves. Honestly, I think one of the under-ratedwords in our vocabulary, though I’m sure my creative writing professor would disagree, is NO.

Another way that words are powerful, that I’ve been thinking about quite a bit lately, is apology. Sometimes our actions or words are wrong. It takes a lot for a person to admit that. I think I’ve become a lot better at it lately–putting my foot in my mouth, pulling it out, admitting I’m wrong, and saying I’m sorry. Honestly, the relief of the tension after an apology is made is pretty extraordinary. Sometimes, that’s all it takes.

Words are such powerful things. They have the capabilities of being extremely dangerous. They can evoke laughter, fear, and tears. Words can start wars and inspire hope. They can end friendships and mend them. They’re the reason that we fall in love, and the way that we express it.

Basically, words make us superheroes; they give us the power to do anything. We should be careful how we use them.

Damaged Goods

 

“Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls;the most massive characters are seared with scars.”

-Edwin H. Chapin

As I was talking to a friend the other day, he noted that he had no luck in finding girls, because all of the girls he goes for have issues. Through this year, I’ve had more than one friend tell me the same thing. I admit, I have even made that sort of comment myself, thinking that I was only interested in guys who had problems. But, recently, I’ve been thinking about it more. No one is perfect. Everyone is messed up. Everyone has problems. Everyone is emotionally scarred. Life experiences make us who we are. How can someone lose a loved one, and not be broken hearted? If they have never lost a loved one, there’s a good chance that they never had one to begin with. What emotional baggage that person must carry! Also, can one really be rejected, and not carry it with them? If they’ve never been rejected, perhaps they lack the confidence to pursue what they really want, or they’ve been extremely sheltered. How messed up is that?!

But, the explanation that everyone is scarred isn’t that simple. The reason we know about the vulnerability of people is because we get close to them. They feel enough of a connection to let their guard down and tell us their deepest, darkest secrets. I think this is important to note as a future teacher, a woman looking for love, and a human being. The reason that everyone seems to have problems in their life, is because they do. But, these issues are just quirks in people’s personalities, just experiences that have made them who they are, and they should be embraced rather than scrutinized as problematic