Thank You

Obligatory Thanksgiving post coming up.

This is the first Thanksgiving in three years that I've been able to celebrate in my own house. Senior year (2007), my grandmother passed a few days before, so we were in Marion arranging her funeral. Freshman year (2008) we were in Ft Wayne with my mom's side of the family, since it was the first year anniversary of Mimi's death. Last year we were in Ohio, once again with my mom's side. But this year I get to celebrate the holidays with my family and friends, some of whom I consider my second family. I'm thankful for that.

I could sit here and write out the other things I'm thankful for, like the fact that my immediate family is still here, how my friends have stuck through my life, the opportunities I've had, and things like that. But that's what almost everyone else who is listing what they're thankful for is doing. I am truly thankful for all of the above, but this year there's something I'm thankful for that I've not been thankful for in a long time, if not ever.

Me.

I'm not trying to sound selfish or conceited, but I'm thankful for Dayna. Since I grew out of the phase of "everyone's my friend," I've also left behind that idea of being content with who I am. I've always felt the need to improve myself. I wanted to be one of the cool kids in elementary school, so I did everything they did and threw a tantrum when I couldn't be for some reason or other.

I tried to be like my best friends in middle school, since they seemed to have this sense of self-worth that I was lacking. And in high school, I tried to be the girl that someone, somewhere wanted to be with. But I was never trying to be someone I wanted to be. I was always trying to improve myself so that maybe, if everyone else liked me, then I could like me.

High school was the worst period of self-loathing, for lack of a better term. While I didn't really hate myself, I didn't really want to be me, either. And it seemed like constantly, no one else really minded if I were me or someone else, so long as I was there to listen to their problems and help them out. I did whatever I could think of to change myself into someone I liked, but it didn't really work. So I focused on being the girl that the boys I was interested in liked. As I've written before, I got my self-esteem from them.

And then college hit, and I was on my own. I had to be a person that I was going to rely on, because I had no one else with me to look out for me. I'm not sure if I changed into a better person over these past two and a half years, or if I just started to accept who I am, but I honestly think I started to change.

This past summer is the one I'm most thankful for, because this summer was the one that I started to like me. If you've stuck with me, you know what happened. If not, suffice it to say that I worked on things I've never confronted and came out with a different view of myself and my life.

So this Thanksgiving, I'm thankful that I'm the person I am today. Though it's taken me a good chunk of time to reach this place, I know that at least one person is thankful for the person I am today. Which is perfectly fine for me. If no one else is thankful for the person I've become, then they haven't really wanted the best for me.

My gratuitous post is now done.

What Makes You Different

I think I've missed two weekends of updating this. And the main reason is because I couldn't think of anything to write about. Sure, I've been a bit busier lately, but I haven't had anything really on my mind.

I'm not even sure why this particular remark stuck with me, but it's been there since she said it. I was talking to one of my friends who I met this year at work, and she said that I have a strong personality and it balances out with someone I'm interested in. And I've never been told I have a strong personality. It was a weird experience.

If you've taken the time to read any other entries (especially from over the summer with my 90 in 90 challenge), then you can see that I haven't had a strong personality for awhile. In fact, part of the reason why I think I have a "strong" personality is because of all the writing I did over the summer for this blog, and all the things I allowed myself to learn about life and, well, me.

I've been told that I'm a strong person before, on multiple occasions. I've dealt with some things internally that many people have issues dealing with even if they have others helping them. Not only did I get through those times, but I learned from them as well. My friends have praised me on how I've handled myself in spite of all of this. But no one who has just met me knows any of this.

So it was really weird for her to tell me that I've got a strong personality. The reason I had to be a "strong" person was because of my personality. I was a people pleaser. Not only that, but I was also a hopeless romantic who believed that if we loved each other, nothing else would matter. I thought that having that one and only was the biggest thing in my life to make me happy, and to make me valuable.

I relied too heavily on what the opposite sex thought about me. I gained my validation from them - how I felt about my appearance, how I felt about myself, and how I could keep those feelings coming. My personality traits that make me a strong personality right now were always silenced if they differed too heavily from whoever I was with or trying for. As a result, I was pretty much used and walked over for a few years.

I started to realize it sometime last year, and I started to allow certain traits to come out more. I was probably most myself in a relationship with Dave than I had been with anyone else, but that doesn't mean that I allowed everything to be seen by him. There were still things about me that he didn't see, mainly because I decided to keep those to myself. Granted, there were very few, but there were still some.

And then this summer happened, and I decided that enough was enough. I don't want to have to pretend or hide things about myself so that another guy can decide if he likes me or not, and then end up feeling like shit when everything ended. So that's where that summer came in. I worked through things and came out on the other side as a strong personality, I guess.

I was talking to someone else I met this year, and he was surprised when I said I wasn't nearly this confident last year. I take it to mean that I achieved my goal from the summer. Not only am I more confident, but I have a strong personality. I'm not as afraid to initially be myself around a guy I'm interested in. I've started to speak up about things that I do or don't want, and (to a lesser extent) things that bug me.

And I'm not that hopeless romantic who believes that finding that one true love will result in complete happiness. And my confidence does not need to come from some male telling me that he loves me. I don't need to be in a relationship to be happy; in fact, I've had a lot of fun being single. I think I've also started to approach things much more rationally and level-headed.

Which means that I think that lofty idea of the summer of change actually worked. Well done.

I Am Not a Whore

My life has become significantly less rushed since I've finished three of my five week classes.

And now, I can attempt to focus my energies on Spanish, which I'm sorry to say isn't really happening. I'm at the point where I really can't do much to bring up my grade until the next quiz, and I don't even know when that is. So that's kind of not much of a worry anymore. But that's alright, because I've got a lot of other drama to observe.

Mainly this idea of a one night stand. A few people that I've talked to have said that it's actually not as bad as you'd think it would be. I've even heard that it's recommended to have at least one in your lifetime, in a magazine no less. I won't lie and say that the thought of having one hasn't crossed my mind before. But I know that I wouldn't be able to go through with it once the time came.

Maybe it's because I'm not the stereotypical college student. I don't like going to big parties. I don't really enjoy the idea hooking up with just anyone. I don't need to drink to have fun; in fact, there are a lot of times when I just don't want to drink, but everyone around me does. I like relationships over random hookups or friends with benefits.

But some people that I know who I never thought would have a one night stand have, and they didn't turn out as bad as I expected. Granted, there were a few who got invested, but that's to be expected. I just know that I can't go through with it, mainly because I had an opportunity to do just that earlier, and it didn't happen.

Though that situation wasn't really a one night stand situation, because I had gotten to know him before the time came to actually do anything. But that's beside the point. I knew him and I wasn't going to get with him, so how is not knowing someone any better for me to hook up with them? I don't understand the logic.

I can't give myself away to just anyone. To be honest, until this summer I have never even kissed someone without any expectations. The only times I've kissed someone was when I was in a relationship, or expected to be in one shortly after. That is hard enough for me to deal with, so I really don't think sleeping with someone I don't know is something I can do.

And I know all the complications. I don't want to be viewed as just a sex object, because I have a brain as well. I don't like being underestimated, and I feel like if I just slept with someone that would be their highest expectation of me. I also know that I can and do get attached to people, and I view sex as something private. It's something to be shared between two people that love each other, so I'd probably feel like a whore after.

I guess that makes me really traditional in my views of sex then. But you know what? I think that if you really just want sex, then I don't want anything to do with you. So if waiting to get to know me and love me seems like a tough and unenjoyable concept, then I'm perfectly fine with you letting me know and then cutting off contact.

I like to think that this mentality makes me more mature, but at the same time maybe it's an immature view of sex. I'm not sure, but if you're reading this I'd really like to hear your thoughts.

Halloween

So I actually had a pretty good week.

I got all my projects done, didn't work too much, and had a free weekend. I helped to organize a Halloween party for work, and that was a lot of fun. Though I didn't study as much as I should have because of it, since I had two tests on Friday. But Friday night I went to a friend's for a party, and it was nice to hang out with them because I don't get to see them very often anymore. Then last night I went to a co-worker's party, and heard about all the shenanigans that I had missed since I went to a friend's instead of my boss' party. And here's when I start in on Halloween.

My friends, people I don't know, even movies like Mean Girls say that Halloween is the only holiday a girl can dress like a slut and no one can say anything about it. Well, here's my thing: If you look like a slut, I'm gonna say something. I might not say it to your face, but believe me, I am judging your slutty ass in that skimpy costume. I don't care how "hot" you are, you still look like a whore.

And that's the thing I really don't like about this holiday. I don't like dressing like a slut, and my version of tarty clothing is different than a lot of peoples'. But trying to find a costume that's not ho-tastic is incredibly frustrating. What makes it worse is that I have these things called curves, which makes the skirts shorter in the back and the tops tighter. Of course, a good 90% of all womens' costumes have skirts (big surprise there). Unless you make your costume, you're in danger of having some part of your costume show more skin than necessary, and for me comfortable.

But when did this holiday become this way? I don't remember skanky costumes when I was younger being advertised in the Halloween stores. The kids' costumes are having less material as well. I don't understand why this holiday means we put our bodies on display for drunken guys to ogle at. Quite frankly, I'd rather have attention from a sober guy in my regular clothes than the drunken guy who likes me because I'm a "princess" or a "superhero" whose costume is nowhere near conducive to fighting crime (or covering up).

My Halloween costumes are tasteful, I believe. I've been a spy for a few years, I was a fairy once (with a cami to cover my cleavage), I was a pirate freshman year with the rest of my friends, I was Catwoman last year and the only skin you could see was from the neck up, and this year I was a few things. I was the "Walk of Shame" for work (which was a lot of fun), I was a ringleader at the smaller party, and I was Little Red/Dead Riding Hood for the co-worker's party.

I wore the same black tights to all the parties. I had shorts on for each costume. And my top was covered as well. Sure, the dress was shorter than anything I wear, but my costume choices were rather conservative compared to other peoples'. And to be honest, though I was wearing shorts I didn't feel completely comfortable in it. And I got "cute costume" the whole night. Let's be honest, I wanted more than cute costume. I guess since for me it was "sexier" than what I'm used to, it was just normal for everyone else.

I had fun in my costume. I liked my costume a lot. I did think it was cute. I wasn't going for sexy. Which is why I'm confused as to why I'm annoyed I didn't get anything more than cute. Maybe it's because of the reputation Halloween has. Though I don't want to look like a slut, it does get you down after awhile of being ignored when the friends you came with keep getting hit on. Especially when you think and have been told that you're more attractive than them, even if it is just by friends who are female.

I want to take back Halloween. I want to have a fun costume, be it funny or homemade or sexy, whatever I feel like being that day/year. I want to go trick-or-treating, because free candy is amazing. I want to talk to people because they have a pretty sweet costume, and I want people to talk to me because of the same reason. I want to spend weeks getting excited about it, and maybe going to a haunted house or watching scary movies.

Seems to me I want to go back to being a kid.

Fight For All the Wrong Reasons

Thankfully I've had a slightly less stressful week. I'm home now, going to a concert in a few hours.

Since I've actually almost had some time to myself, I've been watching a little more TV than I usually get to, or a movie here and there. And I started watching Save the Last Dance, and I had been watching another TV show earlier this week, and it got me thinking about something that seems really prevalent in these types of things.

Whenever there's a fight scene and the antagonist decides he (or she) has to send a message to the protagonist through a physical means, usually the antagonist isn't alone. Usually, when the protagonist needs to be roughed up, the antagonist has a few of his (or her) friends come with and hold the protagonist back. While they're doing this, they're also usually yelling at the protagonist for being a coward or something like that.

Here's what I don't understand about these people: If you're calling them a coward or weak or something, then why are you the one that has to have back up so you all can effectively beat them up? One on three really isn't courageous, and it's definitely not honorable. If you're fighting for honor or something, then take them on one on one. If you can't take them alone, then why are you making them such a target?

Another thing that doesn't make any sense to me is this standard of preferring men over women. I just finished reading A Thousand Splendid Suns, and the husband is so preoccupied with having a son. He completely ignores his daughter, and then the Taliban takes over and prohibits women of pretty much anything. I don't understand why you would disown a girl, abuse her, kill her, or starve her to death.

First off, she's still a human. That's the main reason why you shouldn't do that. But what I don't understand is, what if everyone in that society decided to do that? Kill off all the newborn girls, and keep the newborn boys only. What happens when they grow up? Men can't really procreate by themselves, so isn't that effectively killing your society? Yes, there may be a few older women still around, but there's a good chance they can't have any more children by the time this happens.

I don't know if I'm a feminist, per se. I mean, I'm perfectly OK if a draft comes along and I'm exempt because I'm a woman. I do not like being seen as only something for sex (which seems to be becoming extremely common now, for some reason). I can handle being paid a few cents less here and there. At my old job, I was actually paid more than the guys I worked with. I haven't really encountered anything that makes me feel like I should have to fight for more rights for women, except for rape laws.

But that's not the point of this. The point is that there are things that seem to occur frequently that I have no clue how it makes sense. Killing all the women is silly. Wanting to have a baby boy makes sense, but a child's still a child, and they're still your child. And fighting for honor is not honorable when you don't even have the balls to fight one on one.

Sometimes, I really don't understand people.

Breakin' At the Cracks

This past week wasn't too busy for me, actually.

But I haven't had much to write about, blogging-wise. I've wanted to write for the past week, I just haven't really had a chance to. I really can't write if there are others around, and Tif's been in the room this whole week. I really don't think I've got anything new on my mind that I haven't already written about.

The cycle of thoughts since I last wrote have been: Death, being lonely, being sick of sickeningly sweet coupling (mainly from TV/movies), wanting to write some stories, work, and Halloween. I've wanted to fence in the mornings, but by the time practice rolls around I don't do anything. I've been forgetting about a lot of homework, and I'm almost apathetic to my Spanish class right now. I kind of just don't care about this thing called school lately.

I think I'm starting to burn out. This semester I've only had time for school and sleep, and no social life outside of work. Pretty sure that's taking its toll on me now. But it's not really like anyone else wants to help with this social life aspect that I haven't met at the wall, besides for Tif. I love talking to people. I like doing things that don't involve speaking Spanish or learning history. I like being with people.

I just feel like I'm complaining right now, so I'm going to go find something to do. There may be another mini-post this week to make up for this.

Dead and Gone

It's been a rough week.

My uncle died Sunday night (10/3). I've been so busy with work and school that I haven't really had a chance to process it, and I won't even be able to go to the funeral because I can't afford to miss any of my classes. I feel bad that I won't be able to go, but I only recently reconnected with him, so we weren't that close. I feel bad that I'm making school my priority, and not my family. I know my mom could use me right now.

I'm going to admit something here that I've only admitted to one other person: I think I don't deal with death very well. This is now the fourth family member whose died in recent years: My grandpa in 8th grade, my uncle on my dad's side a few weeks later, my grandma senior year, and my uncle this week. I haven't really cried for any of them, save my grandma. I think it might be because I didn't really know them too well, but I still feel like I should have stronger reactions.

I sat at the funeral of my grandpa silently, with maybe a few tears coming out. I'm not sure if I cried for my Uncle Robert a few weeks after. And I cried for my grandma, who I knew the best out of all of them. I think a part of that, though, was because of my mother's reaction. It was horrible and I'm tearing up right now just thinking about it.

These people are family, and I can't muster up any tears for them. Yes, I feel sad, but the feeling passes fairly quickly. I was more upset over Dave dumping me than I've been for any of them dying combined. Hell, I think I've cried over movie characters more than I have over any family members, and I feel like that's just not right.

I feel like a horrible person for not mourning for many of my family members, and mourning over fictionalized events instead. And even worse because my Uncle Bryant was 47, and died of a stroke. After about an hour I started to worry about my mother, who is older than him, but still from the same side of the family. She's already had an unexplained heart attack, so something like this could potentially happen to her too.

I don't want to think about it. I don't want to imagine how I'd feel if my mother died. I'm scared that I'll have the same reaction to her death, or my father's, or my brother's, as I did with my grandma. I'm scared that I could have a stronger reaction to one of my friends' deaths than theirs. That's not supposed to happen.

The thought also came up that maybe I'm just good at dealing with death. I don't let it consume me or my mind. I don't wallow, I don't wonder what if. Maybe I'm not afraid of death, and that's why I don't get so choked up over it. Maybe I've taken Dumbledore's (and J.K. Rowling's) words to heart: To the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure.

Or maybe I just can't spare any emotions for people who have gone on.