CALLING ALL COLLEGE STUDENTS

.....especially those headed into finals this week or next. Here are a few tips and reminders for getting through the last bit of the semester. You all are beautiful cupcakes and will make it through!

1. Get Enough Rest. seriously. Don't go pulling all-nighters every other day just because you need to study or write a paper. Plan accordingly and get sleep. You'll feel better, do better on those tests, and be a healthier person. Get earplugs if you have to (I did). But seriously, get sleep.

2. Take Study Breaks. Research shows that after an hour (or was it 2?) mental productivity starts to decline. (I think anyway, don't quote me on this, i read it somewhere a while ago). Either way, taking study breaks helps you feel better and study more productively. Turn up the music and dance for a little while. Play games with your friends. Just remember to come back to the books eventually :)

3. Wash Your Sheets. Seriously. It will help you sleep better. Our mom's weren't kidding when they told us it was a good idea. Don't put it off until the end of the semester. You need it now. Sleeping in clean sheets feels wonderful anyway. So do it. It's not that hard.

4. Drink Enough Water. No, coffee doesn't cut it. You can drink coffee too, but make sure you drink enough straight up water. Hydration is key for life, not to mention stressed out times such as these. Carry a water bottle and fill it up when needed. Again, not that hard, but if you are hydrated, you will feel better and focus better. Yeah, you might need to use the bathroom more often, but so what? You might get better grades. That's a sacrifice I'm willing to make. At the very least, drink tea instead of coffee, occasionally. Which brings me to my next point.

5. Drink Tea Instead of Coffee Occasionally. You all know I love tea. (well, you should if you don't.) I love coffee too, but tea is just wonderful. It better hydrates you, can reduce stress, has antioxidants, and is easy to make. if you want a full 10 reasons why tea is "better" than coffee, look over here.

6. Fuel Your Body. Don't forget to eat, and more importantly, don't forget to eat healthy. (Or at least as healthy as you can if you must subject yourself to dining hall food, as I still must.) Get enough protein and vitamins and carbohydrates. Don't just eat candy. Invest in some oranges or fruits to snack on. But don't forget to treat yourself, too. M&M's are excellent study motivators. So are goldfish and skittles. Coffee is a yummy way to start the day, or the beginning of a study session. (Just remember: if you study on coffee, take the test on coffee too. If you learned it on caffeine, you will remember it better with caffeine.)

7. Be Considerate of Others. You may want to stay up until 2 am blasting music and dancing in your room, but other people might not. Especially if you live in the dorms, know when to turn it off (or at least down). People study better at different times of day, know that you will not always feel most productive when your neighbors are, and plan accordingly. Let those of us who like sleeping at normal times of night get our rest, and let those who sleep in until noon rest. If you don't appreciate loud music at 2 am, they don't appreciate it at 7 am (probably). Be nice.

8. Know When You Are Most Productive. Like i said, people are productive at different times of day. If you find that you work better at 8 am, get up and study then. If you know you don't study well unless it's late at night, plan to study then. However, still be considerate of your roommate and neighbors! :)

9. Find Some Good Study Music. Music is good for motivating you to study and write papers. (Or at least, it's good for me. If you know it's not for you, skip this point.) Find something you know will keep you on track. (Classical is good.) Something upbeat, but not too much. You don't want to get distracted, but rather have background noise.

10. and finally.... Stop Writing this Blogpost and Go Study for Your Test Tomorrow. Ok, obviously this is more for me than you. but if you have a test tomorrow too (or a paper due, or whatever) you should probably stop reading and get back to your responsibilities, or got to bed because it's getting late. Whatever.

Adios, and I hope you all do well on your finals! I believe in you!

Cold.

It's cold outside.

Not just, "oh, it's starting to get colder and feel a little less like fall and more like winter but it's still fairly nice (or at least decent) out" cold. Nuh-uh. Cold, cold. 18 degrees with a -1 degree wind chill cold.

In short, much too cold for the 17th of November.

So, instead of going to the gym today (because, let's face it, even walking 2 minutes in this weather is just not happening right now), I'm sitting in my room watching flurries swirl in the sky and drinking tea. I know. I'm a wimp. But it's so cold.

I think part of the reason I'm having such an issues with this is that it came too fast. I'm ok with this type of weather. I grew up in Iowa. It gets cold there every winter. Negative wind chill is no big.

Negative wind chill before Thanksgiving, however, is very big. This is February weather. The type of cold you expect when winter's been going on and you've acclimated (slightly) to the feel of frosty air on your cheeks and biting wind sneaking into your coat. But no. Chicago decided to drop this lovely chilly weather bomb on us with little warning, leaving us scrambling for extra layers and digging for hats and scarves.

The snow from a few nights ago didn't even stick around (pun intended). How rude is that?

If it's this cold, there might as well be snow.

I don't know how to say this.

I posted a few weeks ago about friends and friendships and how bad I am at communicating. Tonight, I'm listening to Christmas music and feeling very nostalgic and missing some people very badly that were once very important to me.

Sometimes, I feel like I failed some of my friends in high school by not being the person they needed. Maybe that sounds silly, but it's how I feel. I wasn't a very good friend some of the time. I was wrapped up in myself, and didn't act like I cared enough. Sometimes I still act that way. I'm working on it, but I think part of it has to do with my awkwardness and self doubt.

I've been realizing this last year or so that I've been upholding an image of what I thought I was supposed to be and presenting myself as that. That person was not the person I should be. That person is hypocritical and goody-two-shoes-y and too perfect to be true. That person was un-rightly judgmental and had a pretty outside for an ugly soul. I wasn't honest with myself, and I've not been honest with my friends.

There are things I wish I could say to some people. Forgiveness I wish I could ask for from people I didn't treat well. People I pitied and judged when I should have loved. People who had different opinions and views and values and thoughts than me than I should have tried harder to understand and accept. People I should have listened better to, people I should have been there for, instead of so wrapped up in myself and the perfect person I wanted to be, thought they needed me to be.

But I was so interested in pretending to be perfect, that I forgot most people don't like to look at someone who looks like they have it all together.  Someone who thinks they are right and that their way is best all the time instead of looking at circumstances and society and personality and personal family values and any other number of factors that contribute to who someone becomes.

(I know this is all sort of vague. But I don't really know how else to say it.)

Some of those people will probably never read this. If they did, they might not even know it was about them. But, if somehow they do, I just want them to know:

I love you. I will always love you. You taught me things about myself I truly needed to know, even if a lot of it was in hindsight. You were everything to me. You were less judgmental of me and everyone else then I ever have been of anyone, as much as I'd like to pretend to see the best in people.

For a few short years, you were my everything, you and a few others. I couldn't have done high school without you. You made me laugh, you helped me through struggles and heartache. I will always hold you close and dear to my heart. I will always want the best for you and believe the best of you, no matter what anyone else says. No matter what you do, I will love and forgive you. It is not and never has been my place to judge you, and I'm sorry if I made it feel like that's what I did.

I wish I could apologize face to face. I wish I knew what all to say, what all I did wrong. I wish I had the courage to be the person I wanted to, to start over and really be your friend. I wish I could know if this is all in my head.

Regardless, I am rooting for you. No matter what, I want you to be the best person you can be, I want you to be good and kind and everything you were made to be. I believe that you can be. I believe that you are worth it. It doesn't matter to me if you feel like you've failed. I don't care if you've done something wrong, if you've made bad choices, or if you simply feel like none of your hard work is paying off, to me you are still wonderful and important and beautiful. And you are worth it all.

For anyone who reads this, just know, that if you ever were my friend, even for a brief time, the message above can be for you too (changing a few key factors, perhaps, like the high school stuff if it doesn't apply to you).

If you are or were or ever will be my friend, I will always care about you, no matter how much time goes by, no matter what comes between us. You will always hold a piece of my heart.

Because no matter who I am, no matter how I've changed, and what I was, I'm learning that I love deeply. If I let you in, you're in for life, even if we haven't talked for years, even if we never speak again.

I love you.

Distractions from Procrastination

Tonight is filled with a lack of motivation running so deep I'm struggling to write this post.

It took me 5 minutes to finish that sentence. In those five minutes, I stared at the screen, stared at the keyboard, tried to post something on instagram, didn't complete posting it on instagram, and stared at the screen a little more before finishing the sentence.

The next paragraph explaining it all went through a similar process of procrastination.

So, I take a moment. I feel a little bit like crying, but instead, I plug in some Tenth Avenue North, and read a blog post by a new friend that I am quickly starting to look up to as a believer and a writer, and eat a piece of dark chocolate. I consider going to make some tea, but even going down to the kitchen area in my dorm is too much right now.

I should be writing my paper on Proverbs for my Bible class, or reading ahead for Brit. Lit. or Media, or even working on the Novel I've promised to write this month. (the novel, that, consequently, I've changed the subject of at least 5 times, and back again. I currently have a word count of 0, since I can't make up my mind. I need to have a word count of 8,335 right now to be on track.)

I can't even focus on "surfing the net", as they say. I just got distracted by the ends of my hair for almost half a song. (admittedly, they do need to be cut, but that's beside the point. I'm trying to blog, and I get distracted by hair. Come on Rissa, get it together.)

I don't know what's a better course of action on nights like this: Force myself through stuff with crappy results, or give myself a break that might ultimately add to my stress later, but put my mind at ease right now.

I'm procrastinating. I'm distracted even from that procrastination. How is this real? I'm procrastinating my procrastinating.

Whoops, just got distracted by my hair again. And I was doing so well.

I don't really know how to end this post. So, I guess I'm gonna leave it at that, seeing as I have no motivation to come up with something profound or witty.

(See what I did there?)

Taylor Swift vs Spotify

"We figured out how to listen to Taylor Swift on Spotify even though her songs got pulled! Click here to find out how!"

We talked about Taylor pulling her music off Spotify at lunch today, and after I got back from my lesson, I ran across this post ^ on tumblr a little bit ago, and decided to look into a little. I googled some stuff about the whole incident and come to some conclusions. Here's what I posted on my tumblr in response:

This is offensive, not only to Taylor who's choosing to not put up her music on Spotify, but to other artists as well. Spotify is as close to illegal as you can get without actually being illegal, and using it as a primary source of music means that the artists don't get the money they deserve.

Taylor might be fine, because she is well known, but lesser known artists are going to lose their voices. Those that are on Spotify don't earn much from the site to begin with, and if people don't buy their music, but listen to it for "free" instead, they earn next to nothing, which will put them out of business (ie they will be unable to make more music). Those that can't be on Spotify eventually might not be able to make their music anymore either, since less people will buy their music, instead choosing to listen to what's available "free" online.

Taylor herself said "Music is art, and art is important and rare. Important, rare things are valuable. Valuable things should be paid for. It’s my opinion that music should not be free" [x]
Taylor is making a bold move, and I applaud her for stepping up. She's a big enough name for people to take notice. Yeah, free, available music is nice, but so is being able to share your talent with the world and get rewarded for it in the proper way. As an artist (writer), I appreciate the fact that she is standing up for others who don't have such a voice. The world needs to recognize that art is valuable and worth paying for, and artists should not be gypped for all their hard work.

I admit, I use Spotify, but not as a primary source of my music. Buying the music I love to support those artists has always been important to me, and if that means getting rid of, or at the very least changing Spotify altogether, then so be it.

If Spotify can find a way to properly compensate artists for "free listening" from their fans, then I have no problem with it becoming a bigger way to put out and listen to music. But as of right now, it's really a way for people to listen to music illegally, without it being "technically" illegal.

Think of it this way. The average song costs about a dollar. Artists on Spotify earn less than a cent per play (between $0.006 and $0.0084, to be exact, according to Spotify Artists, see link above). It takes over 100 times more to make the same amount of money. It's not fair to the artists.

I have more thoughts on this that aren't fully formed yet, but let me know what you think. I'm willing to hear other opinions, but I think that we need to understand that art is important and valuable, and should be treated as such.

Write More Things.

I want to start writing more. This past year has been difficult for me to find motivation to do, well, much of anything, but writing especially.

I have so many ideas. So many. Too many sometimes, and I get to the point where I want to work on all of them at once and end up working on none of them.

This is a problem.

But it's not the only one. 

Next, I get this crippling doubt inside that tells me I'm not good enough. My writing is stupid and silly and worthless. The feeling expands until it tells me that I'm worthless. And sometimes, all I can do is sit until the feeling passes, because I can't even muster the strength to will it away. Take deep breaths? Think calming thoughts? Pray? No, I'd rather sit here fighting the urge to rock back and forth and press my hands over my ears and scream. I'd rather lose my focus and start shaking in class because all of the sudden, something inside me starts to believe that I'll never make it anywhere. With anything.

I have to remind myself to focus. On my breathing, on what's in front of me. On taking it one step at a time.

Which is a lot harder than it sounds sometimes.

So, I'm making a decision here and now to write something every day for the next month. (I'm also doing (attempting) nanowrimo (again), so it should be easy(-ish), right?)

But more than that, I want to blog, or journal or write a poem every day until December starts.

And hopefully, the habit will carry itself over.

And even if it's not good or profound, at least it will be something. And I can be proud of that.

 

(Another picture from this weekend, because tall trees in an old growth forest in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan are beautiful. Especially when the late afternoon sun hits them just right.)

Walking

This has been one of the hardest poems for me to write to date. I went on a writing retreat this past weekend, and at the end of our time there, we had to share something we'd written. I tried for almost two days straight to get this poem to come together, and it simply wasn't working. For being on a writing retreat, I think I wrote less than I ever have in that amount of time, considering I set out conciously to write. It still doesn't feel completely finished, but here is a poem about walking. Enjoy.

I tried to write a poem about walking:

How my mother used to tell me not to scuff my feet;

How my sister walks so firmly that

I learned to walk lightly instead;

How my father has long legs and doesn’t mind being almost late;

How I have short legs and learn to

Walk fast because I’d rather be too early;

[I tried to write a poem about walking]

But my pen couldn’t translate

The memories from my mind

I tried to write a poem about walking:

The way I never notice the earth moving beneath my feet,

An act too undemanding and commonplace

To be celebrated regularly, even by recognition;

An act so purely physical

It doesn’t expect a description;

An act so simple, it never asks for an audience

[I tried to write a poem about walking]

But the more I walked,

The less I thought about walking

I tried to write a poem about walking:

Remembering places I have gone

Experiences I’ve been allowed,

All because I can walk.

My mind filled with memories of conversations

Walking has been a way to experience:

Traveling (across cities and countries)

Growing friendships, (new and old)

[I tried to write a poem about walking]

And I forgot again to be grateful

That I have able feet

I tried to write a poem about walking.

And it didn’t turn out.

And it didn’t turn out.

And it didn’t. Turn. Out.

So I wrote about writing about walking,

And it turns out,

I wrote a poem about walking anyway. 

~C.R. Sutton

Friends

I am bad at communication.

Well, verbal communication, anyway. Perhaps written communication too, I'll leave that decision up to you. When it come to verbal, however, I know I keep getting it wrong.

I find it difficult to express myself sometime, to put into words the thoughts and feelings I have. Often time that means I'm not able to say everything I mean in the way I want too, maybe even leaving out important bits because I try to improvise.

Improvising and me do not go together well.

I think this is why I prefer writing, unless I really know the person. With writing, I can edit. I can go back and find the words I really want to use, words that truly express how I'm feeling. I can tweak and fiddle the words until it sound just right. With speech, I bumble over my words, and when I try to go back and fix it, I end up sounding silly and stupid. Which brings me to my next point.

I'm bad at relationships. Friendships, mainly, as I've never had any other kind. I had a discussion with a new acquaintance (someone I hope can still be a friend) recently, and failed to say what I truly meant and felt.

Later, I journaled about it, and found I had a much better way to say what I wanted.

The discussion, ironically, was about friendship. I stated that I don't have or even need tons of friends because I find it hard to manage them all (and here, I really mean "close friends", but that also wasn't specified). I best connect with people emotionally, and once I get to a certain point of investment, I don't want to let that friendship go. However, in that conversation, I made it sound like I would rather not be friends with someone if I know we aren't going to be friends "literally forever".

What I really meant, though, is that it's hard for me to let frendships go, and I tend to hang onto them long after they are over, even if that's not healthy for me.

But I'm learning that sometimes, you are meant to be friends with someone for only a season of life. That doesn't mean you shouldn't be friends at all, though. That means you have to learn to enjoy that time, connect during that time, and accept that you cant be friends with everyone for the rest of your life. it would be much too emotionally exhausting, and simply wouldn't work.

I'm still working on this. It's still hard for me to make friends because I know that I can't keep all of them. But that doesn't mean I don't want them. I do.

So, if you want to connect with me emotionally, for a month, a year, or a lifetime, please don't hesitate. I'll be forever grateful you came into my life, for as little or long as you did.

(Just remember that I'm awkward and don't talk a lot at first. I want to connect with you. I'm just bad a communication. I'm trying, but I just need you to meet me halfway.)

Thanks for reading! Leave your comments below, I'd love to hear from you! :)

Becoming Grown Up: (or, Adventures in Shopping)

They say that this is part of adulthood:

Learning to go to the store

All by yourself.

Walking 6 blocks and taking

2 trains

surrounded by people

but still all alone.

Somehow this is an accomplishment.

Did they forget to mention

the crippling fear in the

pit of my stomach that makes

me feel sick,

my hands shaking as I ask the cashier

to “ring this item up separate, please,

I’d like to pay for it

in cash?”

I have to remind myself

To breathe

calmly, deeply

Walk down the aisles slowly,

Don’t worry,

If you are careful

you won’t run into her, so

just take your time.

No one said that my hands wouldn’t

stop shaking for 2 hours

afterwards,

Or that a mug of tea

wouldn’t calm the bile in my

stomach

or quench the dryness that covers

the back of my throat

No one said that I’d want to lie on my bed

for the rest of the night,

unable to decide

what book to

read,

Or if I even want to read at all

since my head is still pounding

and I can’t think straight.

Still, I guess, somehow,

I am one step closer to living

on my own,

“all grown up”.

But isn’t the best thing you can do

when you are scared

is to ask for (just a little)

help?

~C.R. Sutton

home

I want home.

I want you on the bus next to me
riding home in the sunset
laughing
full of leftover adrenaline
and Gatorade
Those were the moments
I felt whole.

I want home.

I want the moment you saw us
after we arrived in Spain
running up
to give out hugs and smiles
and happiness
Those were the moments
I felt loved.

I want home.

Lying on the floor watching TV
Vacation in Australia, summer
in January
Surrounded by friends
and donuts
Those were the moments
I belonged

I want home.

Because home is no longer a place
but rather a feeling I get
when I'm safely surrounded
by people I love.
When time has no meaning
Tomorrow can wait.
Now is the only thing that matters.

I want home
I want the moment I meet you
or the moment I know 
That You
are the only thing
I'll ever need
I'll only have to look at you
to be there.

I want home.

~C.R. Sutton

Worse.

I used to know, hours in advance. Sometimes as early as morning when I woke up. I knew it was going to be a bad day, that later that night I would have a panic attack. I knew that I could hold it of (usually) until I was able to curl up on my bed and let all the stress go. I used to be able to control it, even predict it by the way it hit every two weeks, almost on the dot.

Now, it happens in class. My day can be going perfectly fine and all of the sudden I can't breathe. It takes all of my focus and concentration to not make a scene, to repress it and not fall on the floor in a tiny ball, crying. I have to force myself to breathe slowly and deeply. I cannot think about the lesson or the class or the people around me.

Now, it happens at the end of a perfectly good day. I'm lying in bed, or sitting at my computer in the evening and the doom crashes over me. A thought enters my head, and I'm gone. Dread fills my being, all of the feelings come back at once. I feel fine one minute, and the next I want to scream or cry or lie perfectly still doing nothing for hours, feeling worthless and useless and empty.

The worst part about it is that I don't know if anything is really wrong. I've taken the online self tests with low results for an actual problem. I've made it through the days, the weeks, the years, and managed to keep my grades up and not want to kill myself and interact with friends on a normal level. But something doesn't feel right.

Moments like these, everything feels wrong. Everything feels worse. And I don't know why.

It's too hard to explain, too hard to put into words. It doesn't feel like enough to be a real problem.

What if it is?

What if it's not?

And most of all, what do I do?

October's Song

If every day were like this,
I wouldn't have to be afraid
The demons would not haunt my skin
The dark would stay away.

October's gentle music sways
Bells rustle in the trees
"Come," they call "and sing with us"
There are stories in the leaves.

And time stands still a moment
As Heaven passes through
This season is not one of death
But a promise to renew.

~C. R. Sutton              

   

terrore impetum

description of a panic attack:

little lights inside my head

flickering

pounding sounds

breathe in. breathe out.

don’t breathe.

heartbeat. blood beneath skin.

ears strumming with chords

nonsense chords.

breathe in. hold.

thoughts, swirl.

whirlpool round.

And round and round

Androundandroundandround

lights go out

pain.

is my heart still beating?

is it still inside my chest?

pain. no pain.

empty.

breathe out.

breathe in

breathe out and in and out

and inoutinoutinoutin.

hold.

silent scream

gasp for air.

i can’t be drowning

if there is no water to be found.

right?

wrong.

and thoughts and thoughts and

THOUGHTS

be quiet! Shut up!

you don’t know me

I am you.

I am in you.

This is you.

GO AWAY

pressure on chest.

heart sucked dry.

no more blood.

no more breath.

blink.

tears.

Done.

~C.R. Sutton                                                            

Golden Dreams

She knits sweaters in the dark

Because her fingers

Have memorized the movement,

And her eyes are tired.

I fall asleep to the sound

Of yarn on metal

Weaving a pattern of gold,

Through my starlit dreams.

C.R. Sutton

Hopes and Dreams

I've stopped dreaming about my wedding.

A few years ago, I'd get on pintrest and it would be all I though about. I obsessed over details and looked at rings and dresses galore. But it seems to not matter as much now. (Besides, the more hoping I do now, the more stress and freakout I'll be prone to when the time comes anyway.)

It's not like I don't want one. I do. It will be a beautiful day and I can't wait. I know vaguely what I want it to look like, I know the type of dress I want to have. When the time comes, I'm going to get excited about planning it and making it what I've wanted since I was a little girl. But honestly, I don't care so much about it right now.

Instead, I've started dreaming about a relationship. Maybe that's not much better, but in the grand scheme of things, the relationship is what matters anyway, not the wedding, right?

Maybe it's because I've never had a serious relationship (heck, I've never had a relationship, period, unless you count the time I went to a movie with a guy I had zero interest in, which i don't.) But I find myself thinking about what he'll be like.

I find myself dreaming of the times he will hold my hand or kiss my forehead or say he love me. I dream of spending Saturday mornings at coffee shops, afternoons in the park. I think of wandering around a bookshop with him, talking of nothing and everything. I dream that he'll be my best friend. I dream of sitting in silence with him and being completly comfortable. I dream lying on the couch, watching re-runs of my favorite TV shows, reading books out loud in the twilight. I think of making food with him and drinking tea on rainy days and coming up behind him and wrapping my arms around his waist. I dream of the way he'll smell, the color of his eyes, the way his hair might fall over his forehead. I dream of dancing with him, at a swing dance party with friends or late at night as the shadows grow long. I dream of traveling the world together, climbing mountains and skiing down them, exploring forests and falling asleep in tents.

And then perhpas I think I'm dreaming too much, now I've jinxed myself. I'll think of the way he might propose, or even of how we'll meet, and remind myself I want it to be a surprise.

But I can't help myself, and I don't know why.

I don't have a witty way to end this, any thoughts or lessons on how to move past it. I don't have a cure for myself. But maybe, one day soon, I won't have to.

On Writing [poetry]: a poem

I thought it would be easy

To sit down and pour my

Thoughts

And feelings

Onto the page

Like pouring milk into a

Cereal bowl for breakfast

No, instead

I had to tear my skin away

From my bones so I could

Rip out my tangled veins

And somehow try

To organize the chaos

Into words

                                      ~C.R. Sutton

     

Demons Inside

I wish to go back

To the days where monsters hid

In the closet instead of

Under my skin

When they only threatened to

Come out from under the bed

Rather than from inside

My bones

Because terror only struck at night

In the darkness

Back then, And now,

Nightlights can’t keep the

Demons away when

They are already

Inside of me

                    ~C.R.Sutton

"Writing is Easy."

 
"There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed."

In one of my college classes this year, we were having a discussion about if art, literature, and music would be important in a post-apocalyptic world. Somewhere along the way, this quote by Hemingway came up, and the student was trying to make the point that writing was easy. "Anyone can do it, it's not that difficult. Even Hemingway said it was 'easy'!" (He quoted the whole thing, blood and all).

Now, maybe I'm interpreting Hemingway wrong, I didn't know the guy and to be fair I haven't studied him a lot. But I think he was trying to make a semi-sarcastic point here (or else not so semi). It would be something completely different if he'd said something along the lines of "Writing is easy, all you do is sit down at the typewriter and sweat," or "Writing is easy, all you do is sit down at the typewriter and cry."

If this were the quote, I think most people would instantly argue, "That means it's not easy! It's hard work to sweat, to cry, etc." And this is true. But it can also not be. If it's really hot outside, it's pretty easy to sweat. If you're really sad or frustrated, it's really easy to cry. Both are fairly easy in the right circumstances, and not altogether difficult in less than ideal ones.What's more, these are both natural reactions to life, physical or emotional. They happen often. They are a means of coping. If that was all writing was, it could certainly be considered "easy."

However, that's not all writing is. Think about the quote. Sitting down and bleeding.
Bleeding is not natural or normal in any circumstance, unless you have been injured in some way. Something that doesn't normally come out under natural circumstances suddenly is. To sit down and start bleeding means you would have to physically cut yourself open (or maybe punch yourself in the nose).

That's what writing is. That's what I think Hemingway meant. In order to write, you have to sit yourself down and cut yourself open (not literally). It's not easy. It's hard. Harder than perhaps anything else. But it is essential. For if you do cut yourself, if you do wound yourself (and humans as a whole are pretty wounded creatures, one could argue), bleeding is often helpful. If you scrape your knee, blood is there to wash out the dirt. If you cut yourself, blood clots at the sight of the wound so it can heal. if there was no blood to clot, there would be no chance of healing.

So perhaps bleeding isn't easy, but it is necessary.

Hemingway's statement is a bit of an oxymoron. (idk. That's just what I think. )

Late nights, secrets inside.

There are nights when my insides threaten to burst from bones. My lungs expand, so filled with air that it is hard to breathe in anything else. The very substance that promises to give me life is taken from me. My heart fills with blood as if half of it is broken and cannot pump out. It becomes so full my limbs are paralyzed and it is hard for the muscle to even beat.

And then there are nights when everything is about to collapse. My ribs threaten to concave inward until I am nothing, deflated on the ground, a pile of only skin. My chest presses toward the center of my being and there is no room for my lungs to expand. The air outside is unreachable. My bones tighten around my heart until it barely can beat.

So I suppose, the final sensation is essentilaly the same.

But is is as different a feeling as dying from thirst is from drowning beneath the waves.

I find I feel too much or I don't feel at all these days. I don't remember what it means to be truly happy. I find that I walk with indifference written on my skin while my bones crumble to dust underneath.

All at once, though, i have moments where every nerve is alive. I can feel my pulse in my side, on my arm.

And I don't know if this is what it means to be alive or not. Am I supposed to feel something else?

I'm trying to be brave.

But sometimes all the fears pour into my head all at once like waves crashing onto the carefully placed grains of sand holding up the structure of my soul and washing away the rational thoughts and strength and peace and hope. and it doesn't matter if the water stays or leaves or keeps coming back because the damage is already done and it's too hard to pick up a bucket and rebuild.

Because I have other nights still when my lungs are both full and empty at the same time, like I"m trying to breath water and light together. There is already so much and never enough. I'm drowning and floating in outer space all at once.

Do I love too much or too little?

My mind spins in circles. Do I share my secrets, do I keep them hidden? Do I ask for help or wait until is offered?

So please, Be my strength, because the demon's are telling me I'm not worth being loved.

and over again

Back at school, another year of college underway. And with it, two major questions that have me panicking in my bed at night. (That might be a little dramatic. Though I did panic a little last night. and I do think/worry about this a lot.)

Firstly, everyone keeps asking me, "What are you planning on doing after you graduate?" Of course, I have the standard response in my back pocket, that I whip out with ease, nonchalant and painlessly responding, "Oh, I'm not quite sure yet. I'm still figuring it out."
The response is always the same. "Oh, that's OK. You've got time."

Yes, I do have time. Some time, but honestly, not a lot. Sure, 3 years is time to figure some stuff out, but I know now that once the school year really gets going, I'll be swamped with tons of things. It will fly by, probably faster than last year, which ended a little too quickly, like a favorite childhood roller coaster (or waterslide) that used to last forever and now passes in the blink of an eye.

But I digress.

The second question that comes is perhaps the more worrisome, as I am still able to push the Future Plans Inquisition to the back of my brain with a false sense of security. (I do believe I have a lot of time, even if that may not be entirely true.) (Again with the digressing. Anyway.)

The second question is one that I answer with the standard affirmative response, even if I don't feel it. Maybe that's what makes it so troubling, the fact that I'm sort of fibbing my reply.

"Are you glad to be back?"

Oh, I should be glad. I should be excited. This is college. This is what I've waited my entire life for. this is the "School of My Dreams"(or is suppose to be anyway, but that's another discussion for another time), and I should feel ecstatic and thrilled and like I'm living up to my purpose in life.

But I don't.

It's not that I'm unhappy to be here. I don't even know where I'd rather be. But when asked if I'm happy or excited to be here, I can honestly say I feel neither of those emotions, not the way I know I should.

Perhaps I'm just scared. Scared of what my (entirely) unknown future will hold. Scared that I will waste this instead of going out and doing what I love (writing) and finding a way to make it on my own. Scared that my dreams are not enough and I will spend four years paying tons of money to end up in a job I hate always hoping for a different future.

Oh, lovely, worrisome brain. How you torture me so.

I should be happy and excited. I should be having fun and enjoying these days, days where I'm an adult but don't have as much financial (read:bills) responsibility yet. Instead, all I can think about is how I could be out writing traveling journals or novels or newspaper articles or doing something else to make money.

And yet, I don't even know if that's what I want to be doing or where I want to be.

I'm worried that once I do make it, it won't be enough. No one will buy my writing. I will make a terrible teacher. I'll end up in retail for the rest of my life. (Eww.  ew ew ew no. Not that I dislike retail, but I know for a fact that it is one place I don't want to be right now, or ever, save summer jobs or some such similar endeavor.)

The biggest problem is, I don't know how to tell anyone. I loved this school last year, but now I feel, in many ways, I would be just as happy somewhere else (save the fact that my friends are here.) Happy being a relative term, since I'm not really sure what it means for me anymore. (which is also another discussion for another time.)

However, since I don't have anyone to really talk to, I end up wallowing in confusion and self pity and guilt, and that's not good. So, of course, I'm putting it on the internet, as you do. Whatever. I'm sure some day I'll have this all figured out.

Until then, have a great start to this new year, and don't forget to appreciate the little things in life. Like chocolate. And Ginger Ale. and all the wonderful content on the internet.

Until next time,
Love, Me. 

Villains of Once Upon a Time: A Breakdown

[spoilers through season 3]

I've been seeing a lot of tumblr hate about Once Upon a Time lately. I will write another post about why I don't agree with other aspects of it, but this post is dedicated solely to the villains and defending Hook/Captain Swan (to an extent).

Let me begin with saying that I loved Swanfire as well, but I agree with the way they ended it. Neal needed that ending. It almost felt like closure to me, in a very sad but still somewhat satisfying way. I cried during the scene, the first one I really wept in. But to me, it made sense. Now, onto the Villains.


In this show, I see 3 types of villains. First, the "Simple" villains. (Not the best word for it. I can't think of what exactly I'm looking for, but I will explain.)

These are the villains the ones we don't know much about. Maleficent, for example. We know her role in the story she comes from, we have a few interactions with her, but her back-story has not (yet?) been revealed. The siren, the wraith, and even King George can go here. Perhaps we get a glimpse into what they were and why, but we don't really know them. In this catagory, I also put the henchmen. The huntsman, for example, The mad hatter (though I don't really see him as villainous), Greg and Tamara. Felix, Sydney Glass, Jack and Smee. They all work for someone, and are not truly "evil" on their own. Also, none of them have an extensive back-story. A few glimpses, an episode to themselves, but nothing truly horrible.

Next, on the opposite end of the spectrum, are the Selfish villians. I have three main villains in this catagory: Cora, Pan, and Zelena. (A few others could possibly find their way into this catagory, but since we don't know much of their stories, I'm focusing mostly on these three. Jiminy's parents, perhaps, or the former Dark One.)

Why are they the Selfish Villains, you ask? Because that is where their Villainy started. From a selfish standpoint.

Cora wanted to be better, more important than she was. She wanted to prove (to the king and royals of her time) that she was Special and worth noticing. That she was not just the millers daughter. That, in and of itself is not bad, but perhaps she went about it the wrong way. Instead of just proving something, she got a lust for power, personal power. She wanted to be powerful for herself.

Pan wanted freedom from responsibility. He had a very important responsibility, a son, but he didn't want it. He wanted to be as a child himself where he didn't have to do anything for anyone but himself. He wanted independence.

Zelena also wanted to prove her worth. She wanted to be better than Regina. She wanted to be the best. To gain a personal power that would give her control, over Regina, her mother, even Rumpelstiltskin.

These villains could also be know as the most dangerous villains. because of their selfishness that takes root beneath all else, they cannot truly love others. Zelena couldn't cast the second curse because of that, she had nothing to take a heart from. Cora loved Regina, but only as a means to gain power for herself. Pan loved Felix, perhaps, but he loved him most when he was able to be sacrificed so Pan could gain more power.

And our Third set of villains, the  "popular" villains. The "sacrificial" villains. The "victimized" villains. I don't know, something like that. There are thee in this category as well: Regina, Rumpelstiltskin, and Hook. (I know, I know. Don't yell at me yet, let me explain.)

 
Regina's villainy came from a need to avenge the death of her true love. Daniel's death can be seen as the start for her turning to evil. She wanted him back, wanted to inflict pain on those who had inflicted pain on her. Eventually, in Storybrooke, the main focus of her Evil was to protect Henry. To protect the one she loved. Regina's villainous acts came out of a selfless need to love and protect.

Rumple, as well, did not start from an inherently selfish place. Yes, he was cowardly, yes he did selfish acts. But he became the Dark One, he took on power so that he could save his son. He loved Baelfire so much that he wanted to do anything to protect him. Again, his power and evilness started from a selfless place.

So we look at Hook. We look at all the horrid things he's done, all the crimes he's committed. The selfish way he manipulated them in Season 2. The "code of ethics" he holds that seems kind of messed up and geared only toward protecting himself. Good form, and all that.
But if you go back to the beginning, Killian Jones was a truly honorable man. He, like Regina, wanted to avenge someone he loved: his brother's death. The start of his villainy was not selfish, even if it became that way. Later, he wanted to avenge Milah's death. The death of those he loved turned him for the worse perhaps, but puts him in the best category of villains.

They say the "evil isn't born, it's made." that seems to be true for all these villains. But if you look at them objectively, where they came from shows a lot about the character underneath the villain. The "man behind the monster", so to speak. Perhaps they are more dangerous "because they have [hearts]" and love, but perhaps that can be their saving grace as well.

I know they are still messing up. Rumple is lying to Belle, even after all this time, and it hurts to watch. Hook made a lot of bad decisions, but he seems to be trying to redeem himself as well. Regina just keeps getting her heart broken, can you blame her for wanting to hurt people?

They all have a ways to go, but then so do the "good" characters. We don't know what this next season will hold for any of them.

Sorry this post was a little longer than I expected, but I had to say some things. I don't agree with Hook and some of what he did, but neither do I agree with Regina and Rumple for some of the things they did. That doesn't make me love and care for them as characters any less though, and it shouldn't for Hook either. Maybe he doesn't deserve Emma, but that also doesn't mean he shouldn't get happiness.

[disclaimer: i do not own these characters or the pictures of them. I got the pictures off google images :)]

Once Upon A Time

Maybe you've heard about it, maybe not. If now, I highly recommend you go and look it up. Right now. Seriously, stop reading this, look it up, and then come back. In fact, watch all 3 seasons and then come back. It's great.

Ok fine, I know. That would take almost 3 straight days. All you really need to know (i guess) is that Once Upon A Time is a magical show, where "all your favorite fairy tale characters come to life, and are living in the real world". Snow White, the Evil Queen, Robin Hood, Prince Charming, Little Red Riding Hood, Belle. They are all there (here?), re-imagined in a way that doesn't fundamentally change who they are, but just expands upon and tweaks their stories a little. In an almost-semi-believable way.

And I am hooked.

I started watching with friend, then the semester got really busy and I had to put it away for a while. When I finally came back, it was like a book I couldn't put down. I marathoned episodes. When I got done watching it all (only after I finished though, mostly to avoid spoilers), I began to look up pictures and videos and interviews and clips, etc. In short, I became obsessed.

To those who know me, it is no secret that I love stories, especially those that are well told. And recently, I've started loving TV series' that tell a continuous story (rather than something like Big Bang Theory (which I still like), where the episodes can be watched individually and randomly without the audience being completely confused). I entered Storybrooke in much the same way I once entered Narnia or Middle Earth or Hogwarts, with no intention of coming back, at least just yet. A part of me will always live there now, I think, just I have never truly come home from through that wardrobe.

Because to me, it is more than just a show. It provides so much more than simple entertainment, as all good stories do. I think part of the reason I love Once Upon A Time so much is that I have never wanted to stop believing in the fairy tales I grew up with, and now I have a whole new ‘adult’ way to do it, complete with relate-able real life struggles, real life consequences, a new kind of magic, and character development. It’s so much more personal and real than the disney/grimm ones ever were, but without them I never would have love it so much. It ties together my past and my present, and maybe even my future, teaching me to have hope for days to come.

There is so much more I could say about this, and probably will in the future. But to anyone who is wary of OUAT, or confused as to why people like it so much, perhaps this will show you a little insight into why it is such a powerful, magical show.

(partial posted on my tumblr)

Amazing Grace

My sister and I watched the movie "Amazing Grace" tonight. If you haven't seen it, it is about William Wilberforce and his work for the abolition of slavery in England in the early 1800's. Watching it, I started to think about slavery today.

Back when the slave trade was at it's peak, 1st world countries were convinced they couldn't live without it. Slavery made sugar and cotton and so many things possible for them. They used it, it was a part of their daily lives. People knew about it. Slavery was no secret, and still they wanted it to stay, for various reasons. They were conviced slavery made their lives better.

But though slavery has long been outlawed, it still remains. We don't see it today. Some of it still is a part of our daily lives, in the clothes we wear perhaps, and the various luxuries we buy. But some of it has no lasting or important meaning in our lives or our economy. Sex slavery, for instance, does nothing beneficial for our society as a whole. And advanced as we are, technologically, none of the rest is really necessary either.

I don't want to make light of the work the abolitionists did. I don't want to make light of what happened to those slaves. But if that was terrible then, why is this tolerable now? From the outside, we appear to have come so far, but inside we are as wretched as ever.

How can we allow this to happen? Where has empathy gone? Do we care so much about our own pathetic lives that we forget to see the humanity that is suffering just outside our doors? Slavery exists here, not just in third world countries. Not just in the slums of India, but here. In America. In Europe. If Wilberforce were alive today, i think his heart would break. Our slavery may not exist in the physical chains and visible plantations, but that doesn't make it any less real.

One line that struck me particularly hard tonight. John Newton, the man that wrote the song Amazing Grace, says to Wilberforce: "I wish I could remember all their names. My 20,000 ghosts, they all had names, beautiful African names. We'd call them with just grunts, noises. We were apes, they were human."

Think about that for a moment. They all had names. Everyone, man, woman, child, has a name. Every slave on those ships from Africa had names, and every slave today has a name. The 6,000 little girls trafficked into Atlanta each month each have a name. And yet we've reduced them to numbers and statistics. We've forgotten that they exist.

I'll admit it. There are days, weeks, that go by when I don't think of these beautiful people, when I don't try and do something about it. I am as guilty as the next person of drawing a red X on my hand for the end it movement one day and forgetting about it all the next. I don't regularly contribute to any organization that fights against it, I don't buy all my clothing at stores that don't sell slave labor products. At least 25 slaves work for me.

That's 25 people more than I want to work for me.

If those people are going to work for me, I want to know their names. I want to see that they are well fed, that they have time to play and be with their families. I want them to have homes and good money.

How can we change it? I don't know. I don't have the answers for you. I don't fully understand what it would take. But I do know that spreading the word is the first order of business. People need to know about it, and not just one day a year. We need to remind ourselves, day after day, that this problem exists. We need to let it wreck us, tear us apart, that we could be so cruel as to let 25 or more humans spend blood and sweat on our account, and we can't even send a prayer their way.

Just think about it. Take five minutes, and ask yourself why this should still be happening. If you have the money or the time or the effort to donate to a cause, don't hesitate to do it. Put yourself in their place, and ask what you would have you do.  And listen to the song Amazing Grace. Let it change your worldview.

 

Slavery Today

Future Thoughts.

Some days, i just get really excited for the future. I know I should just live in this moment, enjoy the now (and I try to, for the most part), but some days, I get really exited for the years ahead.

I get excited to see my sister, my best friends, fall in love and get married.
I get excited to plan weddings with them, the plan parties and bridal/baby showers with them. To stay up late with glasses of wine (or cups of tea) to talk about their boyfriends' and fiances' and pick out wedding dresses and reception music. I get excited just thinking about which of my friends is going to get married first, and about getting to know their husband-to-be.

I get excited thinking about the kids they will have, and getting to see those precious little faces for the first time. I get really excited about my sister's children-to-be, the nieces and nephews I will get to love for the rest of my life. I can't wait to hold them for the first time, look at their tiny faces and know that their parents will love them so much and raise them so well.

I get excited for my best friend and her life. What she will decide to do, where she will go and what that will mean for her. The wonderful man she will marry, the kids they will have, the places they will go. Those kids will be cultured and intelligent and well read. I can't wait to meet them, to give them hugs as their honorary "Aunt" Rissa (or "Aunt Ruth", if you prefer :P)

Some days, i look at wedding boards on pintrest and just start to get really excited for life. I see little kids and "mom" blogs, and just can't wait to try things with my kids, to teach them, to read books with them and play with them and know and love their daddy. I can't wait to watch them discover the world.

What's the opposite of nostalgia? because that is what I'm feeling today.

I don't know what the future holds, but I know it will be an adventure. Eery day is a new adventure, and today, I'm so excited for it.

A Thank You: To my High School Choir Family.

I'm siting here, sunday afternoon, listening to my choir recordings from high school, and I'm hit with an overwhealming amount of emotion.

I loved choir. Every day, i got to go to a room full of wonderful, talented people for an hour and make music. Every day I got to go to a room full of wonderful, talented people, and leave behind worries and hurt and anger and just simply sing.

The choir program at my high school was wonderful. My director is one of the best teachers and men I've ever met. He cared deeply about his students and their success, but not just in the choir/ music area. He wanted us to be the best we could be in every area. He wanted us to be passionate about life. We were a family, there is no other word for it.

Some of the best people I know were part of that choir. I will never forget Large Group Contest Junior year, when we sang an arrangement of Gloria by Randol Alan Bass. There was an electric feeling on the stage. I was in concert choir for the first time, the audition only, mixed choir group at my high school. We had been bonding all year. Part of our performances were to hold hands on stage. The entire choir was connected and felt totally and completely unified. The song is just under 7 minutes in length. Our director told us that he was so proud to be able to direct a choir that could sing this demanding piece, which he sang in college (I think, something like that). It is one of his favoite pieces, and he was so excited to be able to direct it, something he never thought he'd be able to do.
When we got to the end of the song, I remember feeling so proud of everyone. We felt whole, unified, and strong. We were truly a family in that moment, a unit, a team. I have never felt such elation, such joy, such pride in my fellow students. It was amazing to be able to be a part of something so beautiful. I felt like crying and jumping up and down. I remember thinking "we did it. That was freaking amazing.  We did it!"
I don't remember who was standing next to me, but I know we were all squeezing everyone's hands (or at least holding them very firmly), as if to say "good job! we did it!" There probably wasn't a pause at the end of the song. There probably wasn't a stunned silence from the audience for more than a brief second. We were there to be judged, we had to get off stage and let the next group on. But in my memory, that moment stretched, full, and lasted long. Lasted through our director's brief "thank you" smile, lasted through the hugs we wanted to give (but couldn't yet) and filled the auditorium with peace and hope and love. A feeling of harmony.

I doubt anyone else had the same experience as me really, but I remember that moment as being one of the best in my life. I would have stayed in the choir, with that group of people for the next ten years or more if i could.

I miss choir. I went back to the concert in December, and as is tradition at my school, was able to join them all on stage for "Still, Still, Still" as an alumni. The back row of us alum didn't get the candles they hold during that song, but we held hands. We were, once again, part of the choir kids. Part of a beautiful unity, a family.

I cried during the last song we sang senior year. We have a senior song every year, where the seniors all come down to the front of the stage and halfway through the song leave to stand by our parents, seated on the aisles. I made it through the final rehearsal that morning (barely), but by the concert, was sobbing. I didn't think I would, because I had cried a little earlier that day, but I did. Choir was one of the best things to happen to my high school career. I miss it, and am so glad I decided to do it all the years I was in public school.

So here is a thank you to all the wonderful people I met there, all the relationships I built, even if they aren't as strong anymore. You guys got me through High School, gave me hope for the future and a place to call home. Thank you to my director, for teaching me how to leave my baggage (stress, worries, anger, problems) at the door of the choir room every day, and work hard without them for one hour. For teaching me it doesn't matter if you are the best, but if you try hard, enjoy yourself, and work together, wonderful things can happen. For giving me a place I knew I could come and just be me. A place where I didn't have to put on a front, where I didn't have to pretend to be good or smart or pretend to enjoy myself. Thank you for being there if any of us ever needed to talk. Thank you all for impacting my life in such a positive way, for being there when I needed you, even though you might not have known it. You are all the best, and will go on to do wonderful things. I miss you and love you all. Thank you for being such wonderful people.

Oh, stay your soul, and leave my heart it's song. Oh, stay your hand, the journey may be long. And when we part, and sorrow can't be swayed, remember when and let your heart be stayed. I'm lonesome for my precious children, they live so far away, oh may they hear my calling and come back home some day. And wherever you go, may a bright sun follow you, and wherever you go, may your tears be few. And wherever you go, may a soft wind carry you, everywhere you go, for the rest of your life. 

How I Met Your Mother.... And Ruined a Televison Series

I wrote a lengthy post on my other blog with some tumblr links. Here you go. Enjoy. Or don't. You know. Because it sucked.....


Anyway.

Worlds Apart

She sat on a chair in

The hospital waiting room

Hoping for good news,

Two seats away from where he’d been

Only an hour before

And he stepped into her favorite

Coffee shop to get out of the rain

Buying the drink she always bought

On Thursday afternoons

When she built her garden

Early that spring

He walked his dogs in the park

Where she used to read her textbooks

And go for long afternoon runs

But she never passed him in the

Grocery store where they both bought bread

And he missed her on the subway

Every evening as they traveled home

So she sang his favorite lullaby

When she said goodnight to

Her little baby girl and

He wrote his memoirs on the backs of

  Old receipts, all alone in the dark

C.R. Sutton

another poem I wrote for my creative writing class. It's about two people that come so close to meeting, but never actually interact with one another.