Dearest Facebook.

Dearest Facebook,

           

Do I miss thee? I think not. My variety of communicative practices I somehow forgot. Our contract of friendship gave you power and meaning. But now it is your face I’m weaning and screening. Where is my address book? Where is my bike? Where is that board game I used to like? How does it feel to look someone in the eye? Oh my dear Facebook, you make me sigh. I lost so much when I befriended you. Your importance I have truly misconstrued. So Facebook, we’ve broken up and I’m on my own. You have millions of companions and I’m all alone. They say it takes time to become content, but remember that facebook message to you that I sent? It was made up of words that became so routine. Somehow my life now relies on a screen. So now that you’re gone, I have discovered authentic interaction. If we ever meet again, you will be no distraction.

Yours truly (except not really),

Me

            After six years full of “poking,” “liking,” and  “friending,” I have returned to the land of handwritten letters, phone calls, and long neglected beloved habits. I had become one of those who spent an average of three hours on Facebook every day. I’d grab a bite to eat, check Facebook, sit in class, check Facebook, turn on the TV, check Facebook, do homework while checking Facebook (as opposed to checking Facebook while doing homework), brush my teeth, check Facebook, and so on. I know for a fact I am not alone in this routine. Facebook has become a vivid feature in human activity. By participating in the Facebook circle I automatically gave a dominating power and significant meaning to the social network, as have millions of others in society.

This social network is evolving into a solitary outlet of communication. Basically, 400 million users are relying on a single entity, and that entity is controlling the ways communication develops. For example, the creators of Facebook decide to invent the “status update.” Suddenly everyone is communicating through a short phrase involving whereabouts, thoughts, desires, etc. Instead of individually talking to a friend about what is going on, we post it on Facebook for all 500+ friends to see. Words on a screen do not always communicate what an individual actually means. Depending on Facebook for communication means depending on the mastermind behind it, which may be incredibly dangerous in many situations. Facebook sure seems like a digital form of hegemony to me.

If you consider the growing younger audience of Facebook, an immediate issue surfaces. I created my Facebook account at the age of 16. At that point I knew how to write a thank you card, I was the queen of memorizing friends’ phone numbers, and I loved being outdoors. Facebook is a new home to children as young as 8 years old today. I lost touch with many of my talents and habits when I became addicted to Facebook, but at least I had been able to identify them. Younger generations today are starting to view the world strictly through the lenses of Facebook. There will be no more handwritten thanks you cards, but thank you messages. In a few years children will be saying, “why use handwritten letters, email, text messaging, or instant messaging when you can just use Facebook?” Facebook has so much control over the evolution of society with a particular focus on communication. The symbols of Facebook are becoming embedded and embodied in society.

Social norms derive from the culture in which we live and Facebook is a colossal part of today’s culture. Therefore Facebook has a dramatic affect on the development and evolution of social norms. Upon my break up with Facebook a strong part of me felt lost because the heart of my social communication suddenly disappeared. When I felt something missing from my life, I found relief on a screen, just as millions of others have done. I sent a handwritten letter to my best friend from high school last week and in turn received a genuine phone call. What a perfect way to kiss Facebook goodbye. 

So, more to come on this once my exams are over and I have time to write but I just wanted to announce that I really do not miss facebook all that much. :)

Found this in an old journal from a while back ha

Swallowed whole by fear
Flap my wings and die
Fly with me my dear
To a place where we can cry

Hear my bittersweet melody
Stained by your soft touch
My butterfly weeps silently
Yet still it won't help much

Just let me numb your silence
Weep with me out loud
I'll hold on to you forever
I'll notice you in crowds

And when you think I'll leave you
I hope you'll hear my voice
I'm not here to deceive you
For this was my own choice

An excerpt from a piece I'm currently working on and probably will be for a very long time.

Place me in a box and ship me to future. You claim to know each freckle on my forehead, each scar placed somewhere special on my body. Do you know each scar? Each freckle? My pupils tend to deceive me sometimes. So if you know each scar and freckle, each tilt of my brow, every crease of my timid smile, then why do you still stand tall in front of my body? You stand planted like an appalachian boulder with weathered edges and a beautiful physique. You won’t move. You like this place in the ground where you cover the earth with imagination. Right in front of me. Boulders can be moved, can they not? I can break you from the solidified sanctuary which you rest upon. So I grab my shovel. I attempt to pierce the familiarity of your loneliness and shoot my beloved reason into your veins that change with the season. Are you an icicle or are you snowflake? Are you a puddle or are you a great lake? I am lucky I found you. I love every brick and every cloud that floats through the arteries of your emotion. I love every leaf that lies dormant and crying in the pit of your stomach. I’m not sure I know how to use a shovel. I am used to gardening in the youthful sense. Your arboretum is flooding my childhood garden once full of carrots and cucumbers. I need a bigger shovel to match the moonlight before me. I want to plant a seed in the basement of your bones. There are places on my skin begging for you to play me like a baby grand piano. Hold me. My heart beats deep beneath the shadows of your agony. Hold me. I find a shovel worthy of this beautiful boulder surrounded by broken records. I will glue them back together. You tell me the soil beneath your imagination is fragile. I dig deep beneath you. I thought you needed to be moved from your place in the ground. I thought you would see me if only I could move you. Hold me. My shovel is useless so I make use of my hands. I dig towards your sanctuary with intention. Listen to the vibration of my vocal chords when I tell you I love you. The dirt beneath my broken fingernails screams for the oxygen entering your lungs. The soil is dry and concrete, yet my fingers pry further towards the ambiguity lying behind your curls. I can feel it. The soil is softening. I come to a hole beneath the habitat of your imagination. It is dark and empty, almost as if it is crying for a seed of truth. Do I use the hole to boost you from your hard place? No. I plant the seed of my truth to sustain you and watch you grow. The truth of my love for you. My love for you like a tidal wave; like an newborn child taking his first step to the rest of his life. And there it infinitely stays. The truth of my love permeates the soil surrounding your boulder. It fertilizes what has yet to grow around your reality. As time passes a stem peaks through the soil and sees the light of day for the first time. This is no ordinary stem. This sprouts into the most beautiful thing any being has ever laid eye upon. It is fertilized by something not even I can wholly grasp with my imagination. The stem withstands every storm and every precarious footprint . Finally, leaves begin to open their eyes.

a current work in progress...kinda cheesy but whatevs

Carol to me the aria of your compassion

toss your monumental mismatch rooting tension

whether open or closed,

replace your gypsied rose.

A cello absorbs tears

finally truth premieres,

composes closure

proving love defines no measure

This gallery of broken parts

Wants to paint with you

a picture laughing in the dark

of happiness unglued  

So take my hand and fly with me

to places far unknown

We will love eternally,

and we’ll never be alone.

    

Favorite song of the week #1- "Home" by Edward Sharp and The Magnetic Zeros
                           http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4306i99LMXo 


Favorite song of the week #2- "The Predatory Wasp of Palisades is Out to Get Us" by Sufjan Stevens


                           http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pBMwwJMkcRA


Enjoy.

Does your hand ever follow every twist and turn of your brain? I think mine does.

Stop.
You're funny for thinking
I am deaf.
You're blind.
Yet, you accommodate 
Why does curiosity provide me with
life?
What is your life?
Mine is like a cold summer day flurried with forward motion.
Frequency reversed?
Hold on.
Attendance is required.
Don't you dare lecture me.
Where are your ear lobes?
My lenses are bewildered by
your subsequent absence.
Go.

So I'm waiting for the bus after work this afternoon, and I experienced something awesome that I have never experienced (or noticed myself experiencing) before.

First of all, the bus was running late and my blood was starting to boil. I needed to make it back to my apartment and then to the bank by 5pm. It was 4:28 according to my wrist. 

My ipod is my best friend when waiting at bus stops. I can tune out the littered silence of cars driving by and particularly today, all of the freshman (and their families) trying to find a parking spot to move on to the next and very long-awaited phase of life...college. 

So it's hot and I'm tired. Yay. And then, three international students, who must be moving out of temporary housing, cross the street to wait at the same bus stop. They are all rolling suitcases behind them and trying to keep order in this fairly out of context situation. The bus stop...it's on a hill. I go back to my ipod to change a song and pull out my phone to call my dad and complain about my long day. When reaching for my phone, I accidently yank my headphones out of my ears. Then I hear it. 

Laughter.

Gut flexing, knee slapping laughter. I look to my right and see this helpless Asian girl sprinting down the hill after her runaway suitcase. She must have set it down and turned away. In a split second, that suitcase was gone with the wind. I start to laugh out loud along with the others waiting at the stop. Everyone is harmoniously laughing, including the young woman chasing after her target. I forgot I was waiting for a late bus and had errands to run.

She caught the suitcase and made it back up the hill right as the bus pulled up to the curb. We all stepped on and took our seats as usual. The three girls, still giggling, spoke in the language of their respective home country. It hit me.

I had let myself get so frustrated over the past few days with international check-ins. I cannot communicate well with people who cannot communicate well! But you know what is so cool? Emotion. Emotion braids the human race. I could not speak the language of those international students, but we both understand and share the concept of emotion.

No matter what language a person speaks, I can feel the same emotion as him or her. Watching someone chase a suitcase down a sidewalk is hilarious. It is amusing to me, to the mother behind me, to the athlete on the bench, and to the international students experiencing and witnessing the situation transpire. It is so cool. 

That girl chasing the suitcase...we probably would not be very successful speaking to each other. She may not understand very much of my language, and I may not understand very much of hers. But we both experience pain, we both experience sadness, we both experience laughter, and we both can acknowledge each other experiencing those feelings.

I understand you not because I can or cannot speak your language, but because I can empathize with your feelings. I can feel what you feel, and when you're experiencing something, I don't need to hear you speak, I just need to feel with you- that is what connect you and I.

This is such a simple concept and I'm probably stupid for never thinking much about this like most people may, but let me tell you, that was one hell of a cool feeling.

We may not come from the same place, we may not share the same vernacular, but friends known and unknown, will you laugh with me?

Dear you,

I can hear you smiling.
But you're still kidding yourself.

love,
me

Whose America drinks acquiescence?

Plugging out and tuning in

Who do you hear with your corneas?

Now what do you feel?

As all dig deeper.

And push closer.

To the shallow cavities of vanity.

Laws of love play hide and seek.

Space.

Promised freedom flirts with reality.

Divide by two where separation truly lies.

An oath dripped dry.

Does your silhouette weep with mine?

We’ll wake up dreaming.

Look

at Mona Lisa’s smile.

She’s such a liar.

I say I’m grateful,

but I’m not

satisfied.

Time can break my breath;

but my sanity,

that was always broken.

I want you to look at me

before you accuse yourself.

Help me defy the laws of tradition.

Let’s quit talking about the weather

Let’s quit pretending we’re strong.

Let your canvas lean on mine and mine on yours.

The keys are broken and held together by chrome strings.

So plant your own soul and

decorate it with adjectives.

I'm back.

Well my friends, I survived my first lone road trip. I did the first 14 hours without stopping (except for gas, of course), and then had the lovely privilege to stay with my dear friend Rachael Payne in Morton, Illinois. Ya know, everyone always teases poor Iowa for her flatness and abundance of corn, but seriously, Illinois is flatter than Iowa. As a matter of fact, I saw plenty of corn and soybeans when I crossed the Illinois line from Indiana. Oh, and how dare I forget the hog farms. Few things can beat the miasma of a hog farm.

Six states in one day. I drove through six states, by myself, in one day! I feel like maybe I should add a check to my bucket list? I went from 110 degrees in humid North Carolina, to the (in my opinion) perfect 80's of the midwest. I saw mountains, rolling hills, crossed many rivers, enough corn to flood my memory for years, a few big cities (Indianapolis during rush hour...not smart), and flooding in Illinois and Iowa. I guess the midwest has gotten a lot of rain this summer.

I love license plates. They fascinate me. Colorado is a beautiful state, but it also has some beautiful license plates. I saw many of those. And Ohio needs to get rid of that cursive. You can barely read the "Ohio," so what's the point? I wonder why so many midwestern license plates have the county on the plate as well. My license plate doesn't say "Durham" on the bottom of it. Everyone in the midwest also has license plates on the front of the cars. I have yet to see a car without a front license plate. I wonder if that's a law. Only the foreigners like myself have the luxury of choosing our own plates for the front. I should probably check on that.

It's nice to be back. The sunset last night was beautiful. I've missed the midwestern sunset. It's so rich and enthralling. There are no trees to block your view like in North Carolina. There is no searching for the sunset, it is manifestly there, demanding your attention and constantly reminding you of the beauty of God's creation. How refreshing.

So here I am. I move into my first apartment tomorrow morning. I will start my new job. I will start a new semester, a new school year, a new beginning. This year will be very different from the latter.

I cannot wait to watch things unfold.

I really like this song.

I made this decision recently...maybe the future will be different. But, as the song says, the only way to really know is to really let it go. I've let go, my life is only beginning, we shall see what happens.

Dear you,

I truly hope you are doing well. I miss you. But this is what I needed to do. It is what is best for us both.

Your friend,

me

Perfect Reminder

So I spent the last two weeks in utopia, otherwise known as Camp Lurecrest. Euphoric mountains, life-changing conversations, music, genuine people, and a lasting fellowship; the perfect reminder before preparing to head back to school. I'm in a good place right now. I'm going back to a situation that will have many temptations, but I am capable of holding my own. I want a community like I have at Lurecrest, but back at school. How will I maintain my faith without people to share it with where I am living? Things will work out. They always do. There is a new group moving into Iowa City called The Salt Company. Nearly 100 Iowa State students have transfered to Iowa just to help plant this ministry. Whoever is willing to become a Hawkeye after being a Cyclone has my upmost respect, as that is a pretty big break of allegiance :) It looks like a solid and promising college ministry, and for me, it is an answer to prayer. Now it's time to watch really awesome things start to happen. The ball is rolling, and I plan to be there to give it an extra push.

I'm back

Hello there. After a brief hiatus we have connected once again. It's funny how quickly life can take off and leave no time for little things. How have you been? I've been alright. Thank you for asking. I'm ready to move in to my apartment. I still have a month left here, then it's back to the land of corn. A month of working, sitting, thinking, sleeping, collecting my thoughts, evaluating the past and planning the future. Wish me luck.

Preparation

Here I am, Back in good ole' North Carolina. Back to barbeque, sweet tea, and hushpuppies. Back to my father's amazing cooking, my mother's back massages, my brother accidentally throwing lacrosse balls through the living room window, and my sister's "I own the world" attitude. Back within reach of the first 18 years of my life.

The verizon store moved. I was so confused when I went to Hillsborough Road to find no verizon store. There are a few new homes going up on our side of town. I don't remember it being this hott in NC over the summer. My bedroom has been repainted, rearranged, and turned into my brother's workout room. It is still dark as night, windowless, and the same temperature as outside (miserably hot this time of year). My bed sits in the corner, and my suitcases border the far wall. All of my belongings left behind when I moved away are now in black bags underneath the futon...Sadie, our family dachshund we have had for nearly 15 years...she's almost blind now. It's scary to look at her because her eyes have turned white. She can barely hear either. Even skip, the mut, he's not as energetic. When you leave for a while, life keeps going. People and things keep going and growing old. Will the dog who watched me grow since I was 4 years old not be here the next time I come home?

I've seen a few friends since I flew in on Sunday afternoon. It's different. Well, I am different. I can't blame any of them, I am the one who moved 1500 miles away and began a new life. What made me push away the old one?

I'm not sure how I feel about this...I better prepare myself for the next 2 months. I knew it would be different, but am I ready to take the difference to heart?

Distraction

A Library.

Twelve chairs, four sets of three.

A black jacket draping over the back of chair one.

Emergency exit fifteen feet from my whereabouts.

A painting.

An old man holding a book in his lap.

A lawyer, maybe?

gold frame accenting his trapped expression

A skylight.

Dead fauna with no escape.

Yet the emergency exit is just beneath them.

Too bad they have no means of transportation-the wind must be greedy.

An electrical outlet.

Six holes leading somewhere mysterious.

Only the computer chargers really know.

How unfair.

So how did I get here again?

a year and I am just seeing this.

My fingers should be devoted to an essay.

Yet they long to predict what my mind is currently observing.

“Hit me with your best shot, cause now, I’m invincible

too normal

glanced up,

constant circular motion

without knowledge of

anything

echoing,

left hand slowly penetrating.

her right hand said hello.

her mother’s name in my best handwriting;

consent

a child resembles its mother

an image

innocent and helpless

loiter in me forever.

I need to talk

my permission to go on with the procedure

you haunt me, white room

leave now

my eyes-

not feel or remember what was going to happen

in awe, not sure what to say

response not needed

-printed on this 8” by 11” sheet of white paper-

shut out

For you, Mom and Dad

Dear Mom and Dad,

Do you know how much I love you? Do you? Do you know how much I appreciate you? Do you?

Do you know how much I miss you? Do you?

Let me try to convey even a fraction of how much.

Mom-

How did you go to school while having 3 kids in car seats at the same time? How in the world did you maintain sanity for that period of time? I commend you, you crazy woman. I remember when I was little dad would mow the lawn horizontally and you didn't like that. So you would get out there and mow it diagonally because it looked nicer. I wanted to be like you so once I hit fourth grade and got to mow the lawn for the first time, I mowed diagonally. You know how you can fold your ear in because all of your cartilage wore out when you were growing up? Yeah well I used to sit in class and try so hard to wear out my cartilage so I could fold my ear in just like you. I can't tell you how many times I remember hearing "you are just like your mother" whenever I would open up my mouth and talk someone's ear off at church. I remember when you tried to get Jill, Jake, and I so excited about the "new" cadillac you and dad brought home to replace the blue one. I remember when I used to help you with the nursery even when I was probably too young to be watching the kids. You always let me do the things I was not yet old enough to do, but you knew I was mature enough to handle them. That really taught me how to handle tough decisions mom. And we both know, I have had to make some tough decisions in over the past 19 years. The way you trusted me and built me up ever since I was old enough to walk and talk helped me make the right decisions when life was grabbing me by the throat. I made my fair share of stupid decisions as well. But you didn't love me any less. You understood that I had to make mistakes in order to learn. High school was rough. We were not very easy on each other. I am so sorry for that. No matter how hard we fought, you were always my loving mother in the end and I am so thankful for you. I look up to you so much mom. One of the main reasons I decided to become a hawkeye was because you are a hawkeye and following in your footsteps is one of the most exciting things I can flirt with in life. Dad was right the whole time. You and I are so similar. I only hope I can be half the woman you have shown me. You are incredible, you are beautiful, you are intelligent, you are driven, and you are my inspiring mother and I look forward to learning even more from you over the coming years. By the way-I cut/colored my hair like yours. Haha, the first thing a lot of my friends said was "wow you look exactly like your mom now!" It made me smile. I Love you. I appreciate you. Never forget that.

Dad-

Oh how much you've had to put up with. And oh how hard you have made me laugh over the years. I love watching home videos from the 90's because it proves how much satisfaction playing pranks on Jill, Jake, and I gave you. The first that comes to mind was when you convinced Jill to eat the worm we found when digging in the back yard. You had so much fun when mom wasn't around to scold you for laughing at our expense. Those videos are so precious. So dad. You're awesome. Do you know that? You may be weirder than most dads, but you are so awesome. Even through your "hawaiian button up tourist shirt paired with zipoff columbia shorts" stage (thank you Bret Stolp), you were still awesome. Embarrassing? Utterly! But so incredible. I cherish your life metaphors with everything in me. If I decide to have children of my own (sorry to disappoint, but that is unlikely), I will most definitely use the "life margins" metaphor when they hit their teens. Remember when you put that art table thing in my room when I was 12? You made it sound SO cool and you got me soooo excited about how I was the only kid my age with a legit art table of my own. Looking back you just needed a place to store it, so you did that at my expense. That must be the reason I broke it in half because I wanted it out of my room SO bad. I was so embarrassed about having that huge table in my room for no reason. Yes, now I wish I still had that table because I enjoy art, but then, I severely disliked you for it. Remember how you grounded me from going to the circus because I broke it? In my opinion, that was stupid. I was my BIRTHDAY and I ALWAYS go to the circus for my birthday, but you wouldn't let me because of a stupid art table. I still hold that against you just so you know. I think that might be the hardest I have ever cried. I will never again break anything as important as a table, I wouldn't want to get grounded from the circus again, it's too important to me! :) Thanks for that "life lesson." Remember when I brought Justin Duncan home for the first time and you were cleaning your guns on the kitchen table? Yeah, that was humiliating. Or the time Patrick came over and you were sharpening your biggest kitchen knives? Oh pappa, you are special with your tactics (they obviously worked cause those boys are long gone!). Remember the time you hit that squirrel on Umstead Road. Then you proceeded to pick up the fresh road kill and bring it home for dinner? It tasted like rubber, if I never gave you my honest opinion. Other than that moment, your cooking is and always will be incredible! I cherish every memory I have with you pops. Every fishmongers date, every walk, every deep conversation ending in me laughing at your metaphors, and every tear we shed together over nothing. I'm a daddy's girl. Now I'm growing up and I'm not really a "girl" anymore, but I will ALWAYS be your baby girl. Thank you for being my loyal friend for the past 19 years and the years to come. I'll love you forever, I'll like you for always, as long as I'm living, your baby I'll be. I love you. I appreciate you. Never forget that.

ps-you still owe me a mustang convertible and a jeep wrangler to make up for the van I was graced with in Utah.

_______________________________________

Thank you guys for being my parents. I am the luckiest girl in the entire world. I cannot wait for the years to come to enrich our relationships even more.

Love always and forever,

Paige Marie

Home Sweet Home

So I was walking downtown this evening contemplating what I want to do with my summer. What do I want to get out of the summer? How do I want to protect who I have become in college since I will be thrown back into my past? How will I handle being thrown back into my past? Most prevalent on my mind: Who do I want to spend my time with this summer? A few of my closest friends will be adventuring in far away lands and others will be planted back in Durham, NC-home sweet home.

I've calculated the time I've spent away from home and how long I will be away from home if I did decide to be adventurous and take off for another summer. If I go home this summer then I will have been away from home for a year with only one visit home that lasted over 3 days. If I don't go home this summer then I will go over 3 years without a substantial visit home. Last summer @ camp+1st academic year of college+another summer away from home+2nd academic year of college+summer of '11 in Iowa City (unless I sublease my apartment)=over 3 whole years without being really "home." It's safe to say that this coming summer is the last one I will be able to be home.

I've changed so much since last August when I packed my bags and headed for the real world. I know I will only keep changing and everyone who knew me for the first 18 years of my life will no longer have ample time to see who I have become.

Yes, some of my close friends from my childhood I doubt I will spend time with this summer because I have become someone I'm not sure they are capable of loving the same way anymore. I moved far away. And with that I became a confident woman of higher character than I held myself to, particularly in high school. I'm interested in things I never noticed growing up; things that most people don't find interesting until they are probably further into adulthood. I am interested in things that I don't believe many of my childhood friends will understand or appreciate. So how do I spend my time with people that won't understand the person I am evolving into? And if/when I do spend time with those people, how do I remain steadfast in who I am? I don't want any of them to think I don't cherish childhood friendships anymore. I don't want to be the stuck up one that came back from college on a pedestal. That is not me. But I have grown up. I don't share the same things they share any longer. I'm weird. I am so weird (Kristin Lassiter if you are reading this, I made that comment for you). I've accepted that I'm weird. I intrigue myself actually :)

So back to this summer. I've decided. I am going back to Durham, NC to be me while I can. It is going to be tough and at times I am going to absolutely loathe being stuck at home. My dad tells me I'll be restless after about 2 weeks; He's so right. But if I don't spend this summer with my family and the people who love me, then I will regret it down the road. Because after this summer I really will be moving towards developing my own life and living on my own (I'm living in my first apartment this fall...scary) so there won't be as much time to spend at home. I'm not saying I'll never see my family or friends in the future, but now is the last opportunity I may have to spend more than just a few weeks with them. My future summers will be spent abroad or interning in some random place; my autumns,winters, and springs for the next 3 years will be spent at the University of Iowa; if life goes as I foresee, the 2 years following undergrad will be spent in the Peace Corps; and following all of that madness will hopefully come grad school somewhere. Where do I fit substantial time in there to embrace my childhood home? Another lesson I am learning with time.

Basically, I need to come home this summer. I need to spend time with my wonderful family and my friends who I miss and cannot wait to get to know all over again. Yes, it will be boring at times, yes I'll be anxious come August when I'll be ready to move back to Iowa and live on my own, but yes, down the road, I will appreciate every second of the summer of 2010 spent at 122 Muirfield Ct in Durham, North Carolina-where millions of memories exist and many more are to come.

Dear Friend,

Where did you go? I know this emotion surfaced for me only recently, but I know your tendencies and I'm losing you again. Not necessarily you being physically there, but I'm losing the person I thought I could talk to about anything. I was told not to trust you, but you were my backbone because I was thrown into a new place and you were the one who was there. But you're doing exactly what you promised you wouldn't do. And I don't think you even notice. We promised each other we could talk about anything and we needed to communicate, but I'm scared to communicate with you. You promise you'll listen, but I can't help but doubt that. I shouldn't feel like I'm walking on broken glass around you, but that feeling is seeping back into my every day life. This scares me to death. You know I am here for you, and right now I really need you to be there for me, even if you are contributing to the pain I am feeling. I cherish you, I don't want to lose you to those things I've lost you to before. Do you remember everything we talked about in the past? I do. Things were great. Now my heart is heavy whenever we cross paths, which is starting to become less frequent because you're going back to what you told me to help you stay away from. But I know and have accepted that I can't make your decisions for you. But please be careful. You are a wonderful and beautiful young woman and I don't want to see you hurt again.

I miss you. I love you.

me

Trust

Friendship. What a complex word. Everyone thinks it to be so simple and beautiful, but what if you have issues trusting people because you have no reason to do otherwise? I struggle with this. A LOT.

Then I moved to the great state of Iowa. I was put in a brand new and totally foreign environment, and life propelled me to take the step I have always had difficulty with-letting trust diffuse in my relationships with others. I thought I was taking a step in the right direction, but now I'm beginning to wonder if I was right all along. I am my own best friend, I am content being there for myself whenever I am suspicious about life.

I was thrown into uncertainty. I have always been such a confident and independent woman, and uncertainty is not something I am used to coping with. Starting over in almost every aspect of my life has thrown me for a loop. My confidence and independence has taken a new face-one that I did not know existed. I am more vulnerable now then I ever have been. Starting over forced me to rely on others. Yikes! Now I'm freaking out because I'm realizing how important it is for someone like me to be skeptical when trusting others. I always tend to get hurt along the road....

I have to become someone I love to spend time with.

I need to be the first person to tell myself "everything will be okay."

I have to become someone I love to hang out with on Saturday night when everyone goes out.

I have to learn to celebrate my happy moments with my own smile.

I have to learn to give myself an even bigger smile when life takes a downward spiral.

I have to learn to shower myself with love.

I have to forgive myself for not being perfect when I really want to be.

I have to be my biggest supporter.

I have to forgive myself for receiving hurt.

I have to forgive myself for my past mistakes and the ones to come.

I have to learn to be grateful for my challenges and notice where they take me.

I have to learn to love myself.

So if I am so content with myself now, then why am I still stressed, upset, sad, and angry with the world? Did I learn to trust too quickly? Where did I go wrong?

Maybe this is just part of becoming an adult. You get catapulted into this war zone and you have to pay more attention to what's around you because every second of your life brings change. Change that I thought was invisible until now....

The Complexity and Simplicity of Art

Is it true that wherever you are determines your frame of mind? I'm sitting in a coffee shop right now and instead of doing my piles of work I chose to stare at the wall. These walls are decorated with somewhat intimidating works of art might I add. To my right is drawing of a man looking to be in his mid 40's with black hair, brown eyes, a black bow tie, and a speckled top hat. His eyes seem to follow me wherever I shift my body. He seems sad, almost as if he does not know where he is headed. Same with the man in the picture to his left. They are both staring into infinite distance because they are trapped in this glass frame and forced to watch the frequent coffee addicts of Iowa City waste time doing everything but what needs to be done. The man on the left has a very feminine bow tie and longer hair (no top hat) compared to the man on the right. I can't quite figure out what the artist was thinking when he painted these two pieces. They are obviously two very different people, but they share the same stare. It is definitely creeping me out a little bit. Why am I even noticing this? I should be doing my work, but no, these works of art keep staring at me and I can't get myself to write what I should be writing. Instead I am staring back at them and writing about these two men confined on drawing paper with personalities penciled in blank space. There is a sign between the two frames which reads "ONE HOUR COURTESY LIMIT ON ALL TABLES." Maybe Java House wants these men to eventually intimidate coffee drinkers such as myself so I'll leave this table after an hour. How rude. I don't need two pictures to remind me that I shouldn't sit in the same place wasting time for more than an hour. I have my own head to remind me of that. I am totally wasting time. Why? I don't want to end up in a picture frame with a sad face staring at people walking past me. I wonder what the man on the left is thinking. He looks more concerned about my laziness than the man on the right. The man on the right almost looks like he expects me to grab my coffee and sit down and do nothing. The man on the left wants me to do something with my time. There are plenty of other people sitting around me, all of which are on facebook as well, so why aren't these men in the pictures focusing on them? I have enough people on my back trying to push me to be successful. So here I am, about fifteen minutes over my one hour table limit. All because of two drawings in a frame, planted on the slick, painted grey walls of Java House. I have spent over an hour staring back at these men trying to figure out what they are thinking.

Waste of even more time? I think not. Is this not the purpose of art? To make us think about things we would not otherwise notice or think about? Though none of my "work" has been done, I'd call this a pretty successful hour and fifteen minutes of this beautiful day. I'm going to go look for something new to make me think now. And to the two speechless men trapped in the frames next to me: I will see you tomorrow, hazelnut iced latte in hand.

Dear College.

Dear College,

You have amazed me. I thought you were ruining my life, but I was very mistaken. You are making life unpredictable and that is so beautiful. College is the best time of your life right? Well you are beginning to make me realize that. Mom told me I’d love you, and sure enough, mother was right. I hate when that happens. You still make me worry about my future and finances and such, but that’s life right?. You remind me every day that I’m growing up and I have to think a little bit more about what I do, but I’m accepting that. You make it hard to read my bible, you make it hard not to touch alcohol and other substances, but in contrast, you make it easy to love what is around me. You complicate everything, but you help everything too! You have ruined my sleeping schedule, reminded me of my awful time management skills, and emptied every penny from my wallet, but it’s worth it because I am learning. You stress me out, but you also make me smile. My heart isn’t hurting anymore, it’s just adjusting to change. I went home to my own bed, my own kitchen, and my own fireplace because I thought it was what I wanted, and then I realized I began to miss you slowly. You gave me a break, but now I’m ready to come back and conquer you. I don’t know how to be a perfect adult yet, but who am I kidding? There is no perfect adult. I love the independence, and you made me feel alone at first, but not anymore. I thought you were turning me into someone I wasn’t, but you’re actually molding me into who I will be, and I’m appreciating the little bumps along the way. I’m sorry I was so hard on you at first college. I could have embraced the opportunities you set before my eyes at first, instead of going to the bars and wasting time napping because I stay up until 3 am every night. I’m embracing the opportunities now, I promise. I know I shouldn’t have blamed you for all my stupid tendencies and decisions, but you were the main thing consuming my life at the time, so I felt like you were the only thing I could blame. Thanks college, you’re rockin’ my world in 417389574398 different ways right now. Don’t back off, I’m a work in progress. I’ll get there eventually. I’ll be patient with you from now on, I promise.

P.S. Thanks for the wake up call.

Your content friend,

Paige