These Boxes Aren’t Pandora’s

In reading a post about the packratting tendencies of a friend of mine, I was reminded of my own inability to throw away things that mean a lot to me. I actually have several boxes that hold my sentimental belongings.  There are two in my hometown in Tennessee and one here in my room at Transy.

One of these boxes hold letters from my North Carolina friends, who continued to write me after I moved to Tennessee. There’s a friendly rejection letter in there that a boy typed up and left in my desk in the 5th grade when I asked him out. Also, most of the notes from middle school, signed Emily Chasez (because I was convinced I was in love with and would eventually marry the *Nsync crooner), can be found in that box along with the two diaries that I attempted to start.

My mom has kept an “Emily Box” for most of my life. It’s how I discovered the tooth fairy wasn’t real, when one day I stumbled upon all of my baby teeth while digging through the contents of the Emily Box. All of me old projects and stories that I wrote can by found in there. She even kept the cards that we gave her each year for Mother’s Day, her birthday, and just any special occasion. Each and every one of my grade cards is in the box, along with my college acceptance letters.

In my Transy box, you could find the ‘bus notes’ that my campers left me for the last two summers, telling me how much I meant to them and reminiscing over the memories of their four weeks of camp. Also, there are the photographs that I couldn’t bear to throw away but couldn’t emotionally handle having them posted on my walls after the break-up. His hat is in there too, and the tickets from the trips. Even the chopsticks from that sushi restaurant that I liked so much are somewhere in that box.

I don’t open these boxes very often, because they aren’t just filled with my old belongings. They are full of memories, nostalgia, and emotions. There’s a reason that I can’t just throw them away– they mean too much to me. But there’s also a reason that they are packed away, almost never to be seen again– they mean too much to me.

Pride, Accomplishment, Selflessness, and a Little Friendly Competition

Every year at Transylvania University, Chi Omega sorority puts on a philanthropy event to raise canned goods for God’s Pantry. In order to raise the most cans and to have as much fun as possible, they decided to make this event into a dance competition between the fraternities and sororities (and this year the Independent women got involved too! yay!). The event is called Campus Sing. This event is one of the most popular on campus drawing a crowd of hundreds of people. Sororities, especially, go all out. Alpha Omicron Pi, of which I’m a member, is no different.

Last year, we came in second place, losing by a mere seven tenths of a point. However, Chi Omega decided that since we were the smallest sorority on campus, and we had put our full effort into the can collection, that they would design a special award for us. Last year, they created the “Most Cans Per Active Member”, and we won with 106 cans per member. In the end, we were proud of our can raising attempts, and our sisterhood was closer than ever. In fact, we missed practicing so much that the girl who choreographed the dance decided to continue with the dancing. She had weekly sisterhood meetings that she called “Mexi’s remedial dance classes”. We couldn’t have been more pleased.

This year, though, we were determined to win. We set a goal of 110 cans per active member, and we worked our hardest to reach that goal. We got donations from businesses and our relatively young alumni base. Some of us retrieved cans from our hometowns. Girls went trick-or-canning in different neighborhoods around Lexington, asking others to donate their cans to the cause. When it came down to it, we collected all of the spare change from the chapter that we could muster. No laundry for us this week! It was a wonderful feeling on Wednesday afternoon when we carried box after box, and bag after bag, of cans into the cafeteria. The Chi Omegas had to set up a separate donation table for us, in order to keep up with our tally. The sisters of Alpha Omicron Pi were so filled with joy and pride. We were literally glowing with pride, spreading the love among sisters with hugs and high-fives. We had definitely accomplished our goal, all that was left now was the dance that we had been working on— or so we thought.

There was a twist! Another chapter had come in at the last minute and asked for an extension on the deadline. It had been granted! “OH NO!” we thought! We had worked so hard, devoting most of our time to can collection. At this point, it was all about respect. This was definitely not the way that we were going to be beat! We had worked too hard on the philanthropy portion to lose. With an hour extension on the deadline, a few of our sisters stepped up to the plate– calling family relatives, and even emptying their own bank accounts, in order to save our lead. These girls were truly selfless. Though just a friendly competition among sororities, they weren’t going to lose if there was anything they could do about it.

After our performance, which can be found at http://www.youtube.com/user/kylelibra , cheers erupted from the crowd. There were so many AOII supporters. We tried not to think about whether we were going to win or lose. That wasn’t the point. We had worked really hard. We had supported an amazing philanthropy to the best of our abilities. We had poured our hearts out into the dance. We had learned things about each other and grown as a sisterhood. AND, we had fun doing it! We had already accomplished so much.

When the Chi Omegas announced the winners of the competition, it was just icing on the cake. Our chapter once again won the Cans per member award, exceeding our original expectations, and collecting a whopping 123 cans per member! Even more than that, we had set a new record for the most cans collected with a total of 10,001 cans. Yes– ten thousand AND ONE– proving that every can donated counts! And to top it off, we won the overall Campus Sing award.

Our efforts had been rewarded. I think more than receiving the actual trophy, our reward was our sisterhood and the sense of accomplishment that it gives us. We are the youngest and smallest sorority on campus. At times, our chapter has struggled to stay afloat, and we haven’t always had the best public image. I think that’s why it meant so much to us. It was almost validation that hard work, determination, and love do pay off in the end.

When I Grow Up

As little kids, we all remembering uttering these words, whether they be about becoming a firefighter, rockstar, or fairy princess. The point is, as little kids, we are dreamers. But as we age, we lose the sparkle in our eyes that makes us believe that we one day could live our wildest dreams. Even at a liberal arts college, such as the one that I attend, the dream seems to be lost. I guess that’s a part of growing up, making the hard decisions and losing our idealism.

About junior year (thought it was sophomore year for me) in college, you start to see students become a little squeemish about the subject of their future. What will they do after graduation? Grad school? Where will they go to Grad school? What sort of degree do they want to pursue? What will they do with their masters? Get a job right out of college? Where will they work? What will their job be? How much money will they make?

It’s a scary concept for the little kid in me, who still has her heart set on being The Little Mermaid (What else would a little red head dream of becoming?). But, as I have grown older, I have become more of a “realist”. I believe that my idealism still shines through in my decision to become a middle grades teacher. I am not hoping to get a job that will pay me a large salary. I could have chosen to major in history or political science, to pursue a law degree. However, I chose my major because being a teacher really appeals to me. Not only will I enjoy myself, I think that it is a profession in which I will succeed.

Recently, I have been catching a lot of flack because I am an education major. To me, there seems to be a lack of respect for people in my major, as people percieve teaching to be an “easy” way out. “Those who can’t do, teach,” one boy even said to me. Of course, the same boy later came to me for advice on his paper. I have come to terms that some people do think less of me as an intellectual, merely because of my major.

However, the realistic and idealistic perspectives of my personality both allow me to think about the future in different terms. I am talented, intelligent, and hardworking, and I don’t need the justification of the world to become a teacher. I just need to keep reminding myself that “when i grow up”, I will not only be doing what I want to be doing, but I will be doing it well.

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!

As Strong as a Fourteen Year Old

I have basically lived a life a privilege for my entire 20 (almost 21) years. I have never really wanted or needed for anything. Though I have sustained what I deemed to be major heartbreaks, really they were not exceptionally unique or tragic. Really, I have been able to live my life without too much interruption or misfortune. I have been blessed, but not everyone I know has been so lucky.

During the summer, I am a counselor at a camp. This next coming summer will be my third year working there, and I have definitely become attached to the people with whom I have come into contact. I especially enjoy staying in touch with my campers, who are now 9th graders and are starting to deal with the serious issues in their lives. One of these girls is Chrissy.

Though merely a teenage girl, my camper Chrissy has had to face more obstacles than most people do in their lifetime. Of course, there is the ever enduring adolescent drama of who-is-dating-who and who-said-what, etc etc. But, Chrissy has confided in me some of the more serious problems in her life.

Last night, her best friend was admitted to the hospital and put on life support. This young lady is a freshman in high school, and has long been suffering from a terminal illness. Through her friend’s sickness, treatment, and depressive episodes, Chrissy has tried to remain strong for her friend. Chrissy has been her friend’s confidant and psychologist, when she won’t turn elsewhere for help. As a fourteen year old girl, this is asking a lot. While (I think) most girls her age would run the other direction from the issues that this girl faces, instead Chrissy reached out. Even in talking to her last night, she wouldn’t allow herself to stay upset. Her friend is on life support, but my little camper stands strong. “[My friend] wouldn’t want me to be sad over this.”

Though admittedly there were tears shed, who among us would be able to stay as strong as this girl–my camper– when your best friend is on her deathbed? I have a growing admiration for Chrissy and her emotional stronghold. She is perhaps one of the most happy-go-lucky girls with whom I have ever come into contact. Though on several occasions, I have held her in my arms as the tears streamed down her cheeks, there are very few days that a smile cannot be found on her face. I know in the future, I will surely be faced with the realization that a loved one– may it be friend, family, or a friend that is my family– may die. My only thought right now is, will I be as strong as this fourteen year old?

St. Who’s Day?: Why We Celebrate St. Patrick’s Day

March 17th- It’s Saint Patrick’s Day.

It occurred to me this morning that I should get up and put on some green. Actually, I’m not going to lie, I’ve been planning my outfit for a while. But, it really sank in this morning that I have no idea who St. Patrick is, why we celebrate St. Patrick’s Day on March 17th, and why I should wear green. For those of you who already know, kudos to you! I had to do research this morning to figure it out.

Saint Patrick is the patron saint of Ireland. There’s no definite answer as to when he lived, but there are theories out there. The reason we celebrate Saint Patrick’s Day on March 17th is because that is supposed to be his death date and also his feast day. According to legend, Saint Patrick used to teach people about the Holy Trinity by using the shamrock. That’s why the shamrock is an important symbol on Saint Patrick’s Day, and why green is the presiding color of this holiday (though some add orange and white to their outfit, so it reflects the Irish flag).

Other knowledge that you might find interesting: Saint Patrick’s Day is a bank holiday in Ireland, and a public holiday in Newfoundland, Canada. There has been a large movement (especially by Guiness) to make St. Patty’s Day a national holiday here in the US, but it has yet to be done. It’s widely celebrated here though. Chicago dies their river green. Savannah dies their city fountains green (I’ve actually seen that one, and it’s quite a site to behold!).

I can’t believe that 20 years of my life have gone by, and I have never really wondered why I get up in the morning and put on green. I guess I always just told myself that I was celebrating my Irish heritage. Thinking back now, I can’t help but wonder what else I have just accepted without questioning. From now on, I’m going to start doing my research!

Slán! (That’s Gaelic for goodbye)

Life Support

OK, there is a difference between being a support system for a friend in need and telling someone what to do. Sometimes the difference seems ever so slight, but I assure you that it is major. I think sometimes I fail to recognize the difference, and I can admit to that. I also realize how frustrating that can be to people, because I have been on the receiving end of that as well. I think that there is a certain line that’s crossed when someone asks for advice, and instead they get an outline by which they should live their lives. An opinion is one thing, but I think that a person should be in control of his or her own life.

Personally, I’m a very independent person. I guess it has something to do with the way that I was raised, because everyone in my family is that way. If someone tells me I can’t do something– I want to do it. If someone tells me I shouldn’t do something– I’m most likely going to. I don’t like being told what to do, and I don’t respond in a favorable fashion generally.

At the same time, I know people who can’t seem to make a decision for themselves. They are constantly asking “What should I do?”. Without an outside source of help, I am sure they would live their lives decision-less.

I guess that this blog seems a bit like a random ramble without the context, but if I were to divulge the inspiration for this blog I fear I might compromise a close friendship. I guess I am just pretentious enough to believe that I have the right to make my own decisions and to establish my own belief system. I generally don’t just accept what I’m told, I have always been that way. I like to learn it for myeslf. I like to experience things for myself, without the judgments of those around me. Advice is one thing. Telling me how to live my life is another.

Missed Opportunities but No Regrets

It’s spring break time, again. You know what that means, right? Panama City. College girls gone wild. Parties. Booze. Well, that’s the stereotypical spring break at least. Of course, I’ve never actually been on one of those. Not that I haven’t had fun on my spring breaks, mind you. Freshman year was Alternative Spring Break relief work from Hurricane Katrina. Last year I went to Canada. This year, I’m going to Orlando with my little sister. I look back fondly on my last two spring breaks, and I look forward to this one. However, I can’t help but I wonder what I’m missing. I’m in college. This is the time of my life that I’m supposed to be going wild, having fun, and making decisions that I either regret or don’t remember making, and then look back at fondly while laughing over a cup of coffee with old friends. Isn’t it? I sometimes worry that I don’t live life to the fullest, especially my college life.

Thinking over spring break has made me wonder what all I have missed out on in life. I never really went out in high school. I was way too focused on making my way into college, which I did. I got into several very good colleges. I got out of state, far away from home. But, sometimes, when I sit with my college friends and they discuss all of the great times and parties that they went to in high school, it makes me wonder what all I missed out on.

I had the same financial aid from all of the universities that I was accepted into, and they were all ranked very highly. I made my final decision based on 3 HUGE factors:

1. TU was the closest to home, so my sister could come visit me!

2. TU’s swim team seemed so incredibly close knit and welcoming.

3. TU had a 100% acceptance rate into law school, and I had plans to become a lawyer.

Well, where I stand today, I tore my labrum and rotator cuffs before Christmas vacation during my freshman year. That was when my swimming career ended. My sister was only able to come visit about twice. I am now a Middle School education major with no intention of applying to law school, though I am not sure that my parents will ever fully realize it.

And yet, I am not an unhappy person. I have had some amazing experiences as a result of some of my mistakes, or what I like to call missed opportunities. I am able to look back on missed opportunities and ask the ever elusive question “what if?”. I may even daydream sometimes, playing out what my life would be like if I had just made different decisions. But really, it’s impossible for me to say that my life would be any better or worse off if I had taken another road. If different decisions had been made on my part, say to date a certain someone or not to, I would have missed out on portions of my life, and I, as an individual, would be completely different. I guess this is why I say I can’t live with regrets. You can acknowledge the missed opportunities of the past, but you can’t live regretting it.

The Difference Between Due and Done

I am in the process of writing this blog not only to have an outlet to express my own opinions, thoughts, and frustrations, but also as a writing assignment for an education course that I am taking. As a stipulation of this course, I am supposed to complete 3 blogs per week and to also respond to my classmates writing. I have found this task a tid bit difficult, as I don’t always feel that I have profound, wide sweeping insights into my life to share with the world. I feel that is what a blog should be. At the end of reading my post, I don’t want to leave people wondering, “So what?”.

Earlier this week, I went to an author’s reading/lecture that was held on campus. For the first hour, he read four of the stories that he has written. I’m not going to lie to you, I didn’t get a lot out of this portion of the presentation. I am not a professional literary critic, so I will refrain from commenting on his work. I will say, though, that I prefer to read it myself rather than to hear it read.  For the next thirty minutes he answered three questions. Someone asked him “What makes a good writer?”. He answered (as almost every college professor/author/journalist would) “You have to write”. Forgive my generalization there about writers, but I feel that advice is so overused and trite. It is basically the ‘practice makes perfect’ concept that we were told during our childhood t-ball games, only applied to writing. He did make one statement that I found useful. Not surprisingly, it didn’t come from him, but from a friend of his.  He told the story of a Harvard college professor whose students asked her, “What if nothing that we write is good enough?”. The professor responded “Well, then lower your standards.”

Of course, those words peaked my interest. I started thinking about them, especially in terms of my blog and my creative writing. He expounded upon this idea of lowering one’s standards.  Students were not to lower their standards of good writing but to stop criticizing their own writing so much.

On a daily basis in college, I hear students complaining about how they are horrible writers. Personally, this blog and in other writing that I do, I like to include profound insights that are applicable to people’s every day lives. I want everyone to be able to relate to my words. When this speaker said “Lower your standards”, it really struck a chord with me.  Maybe not everything that I write has to be a brilliant piece of literature, but if I never put it out there, I’ll never know.

In my creative writing class, I told my professor about my perfectionist tendencies and how I despised turning in work that was incomplete or seemed to need more revision. She just looked at me and said “Writing is never done, it’s only due.” I think this is very similar to the standards statement. Basically, all of my writing can be improved  or expanded upon, but there comes a time when you just have to put it out there for the world to see.

I’m going to start writing my blog that way. Perfection may not have been reached yet, but blogging about something inconsequential (in the grand scheme of things) is better than not blogging at all. Actually, that seems like a pretty effective way to live one’s life: It may not be perfect, but living in the moment is better than never living life at all.

Addicted to Dating

Around Valentine’s Day, people become acutely aware of their own solitude in life. I was talking to a friend of mine the other day, and he asked my advice on a matter of the heart: “Should I wait for my ex to come to her senses, or should I just find someone else?”

WHAT?! Since when are those the only two choices? Why do you have to be with someone?

He claimed that he “Doesn’t like to be alone”. Though, on the surface level, this statement is easy to relate to, in my opinion everyone needs to be alone at some point. Those who don’t believe this, should especially heed this advice. Being alone is essential to being an individual. People who are constantly involved with a partner never get an idea of their true personality. They never get to be themselves, as they are constantly trying to please and impress other people. These types of people become addicted to dating. I have friends like that. One of whom jumps from guy to guy. She hasn’t been alone for more than two months since her sophomore year of high school. She realizes that this is a problem for her. She even admits that she’s never really found herself, because she’s always sort of let her significant other define her. But, for her, admitting her problem has just perpetuated it. She realizes that she has never developed the ability to be completely independent, and so she is always looking for someone new.

A whole new question that this raises in my mind is about loving yourself. If you have never been alone, and developed your own sense of identity outside of a relationship, how can you ever learn to love yourself? People like that are lost when they’re alone. I’d have to concede to this point, no one likes being lonely. Every now and then, I do long for the occasional backrub or just to be held. I think that’s perfectly healthy. And, not everyone who is in a relationship relies on their significant other to create their identity. It’s when you find that sort of attention necessary to function that it becomes a problem.

However, just because you aren’t dating someone, doesn’t mean you’re alone in the world. That’s why we have friends and family. They keep us from being too lonely. They give us human interaction. Sometimes when we are in relationships, we tend to let these people fall by the wayside. I know I did it last year. But these are honestly the more important people in our lives. They are part of what makes us who we are. Our families are where we come from. They are the ones that probably know things about you, that even you don’t know or remember. Our friends are the people who will love us enough to tell us how stupid we are, who will be there to comfort us when we need them, and who will listen for hours when we just need to vent. Honestly, you’re never really alone… so why the addiction to dating?