Why I struggle with relating

              “Come on, it’ll be fun.”

In my experience, few words were ever capable of containing more deceit, more truth, more stories, more memories, or more boring hours. Here’s why. 

In the past, I’ve felt strongly that my definition of “fun” is uncommon for a few main reasons. The image of a social gathering late at night around loud noises, bright lights, laughter, music, sugary drinks, and excitement seems to be a popular one. Staying out late makes me drowsy. Both bright lights and loud noises give me headaches. Loud music frustrates me because I can’t hear anyone’s words over it, and no one should be speaking so loudly that I should be able to hear them over it. I don’t have a sweet tooth; in fact, I don’t even drink sweet tea. I feel crushed and analyzed in a large crowd. I generally despise texting. To top it all, dancing is not my forte.

 Many people look at this side of my personality and can’t possibly imagine how I ever have fun. They paint me in their minds to be a serious, under reactive persona who never smiles and doesn’t know how to loosen up. That image doesn’t look anything like the version of me that I know. This is, I think, the key to why I struggle with building a massive amount of friendships. I have my close friends, sure, but it seems like everyone I meet is the best of friends (or has some deep seated drama) with everyone they meet. Maybe that’s part of living in a small town. More likely, it’s simply a conflict between what I like to do and what “they” like to do. On that note, I’ve struck the golden center of a personality that seems thus-far detached and inhuman. 

What do I like? Small groups of people, sunlight in moderation, witty jokes, the music on quietly when I’m alone (and entirely turned off when I’m trying to converse), water, fresh fruit, honey on my pancakes, and face-to-face conversations, and either phone calls or letters when face-to-face isn’t attainable. That’s how I loosen up. Not by blaring the music, dancing, eating sweet food, or spending time with a crowd of people. I have a feeling that plenty of the people reading this enjoy a mix of things from both lists. I’m not entirely alone. 

What do I like? The answer is, the same thing that everyone else does. Except, I don’t prefer it served with a side of loud music and crowds. I love the same feelings that everyone else does, but I get those feeling from different things. For instance, I like the feeling that I’m loved. I get that feeling from talking face to face and surprise birthday parties, from friends coming over just to say hello, not happy birthdays from a wave of people on facebook or texts. I like the feeling that I’m not alone. I get that feeling from finding other people with similar interests, mostly church. Not from being in a crowd. I like feeling like I’ve accomplished something. I get that feeling from training horses, making a good grade, or running a distance/time pr. Not a team victory in a school sport where I rode the bench. I like unsweet tea; it’s what my taste buds prefer. I like adrenaline (a lot), but I can’t say with confidence that I’ve ever found it in a crowd with loud music. Snowboarding, yes. Jumping horses, yes. Being on a uncontrolled horse, yes. Jumping off of a high dive platform, yes. Water slides, yes. Even something like flying in a plane or having a crush on someone is enough to give me butterflies. 

I’d say “I hate drama”, but surely that’s not true. If I hated drama, I couldn’t have managed to finish Pride and Prejudice. My favorite thing is drama attached to a good story. I dislike hearing pointless he-said-she-said stories in highschool about relationships that will probably end (sorry). I like being at a wedding and hearing the stories about how the two met. I thoroughly enjoy asking elderly people about their childhood and what their philosophies are on life and love. Most of all, I like hearing stories; especially from my dad. He’s quite good at baited-breath stories. 

Now I can explain why I have a bitter sweet relationship with “come on, it’ll be fun.” The problem is that I always listen to that phrase. It’s good, occasionally. That’s the reason why I went snowboarding in the first place. It’s also the reason why I’ve made some serious mistakes, and the reason why I’ve spent a lot of hours in various places that I really don’t consider “fun”. It’s also a source of concern, because it’s a bit like my kryptonite. I’m relatively level headed in my day-to-day decision making (even though I make mistakes often), until that silly little phrase jumps out of nowhere. Yes, what I enjoy doing is different. Yes, how I relate to people is different. Yes, I’m emotionally stable. 

The fact of the matter is that I enjoy feeling exactly what everyone else does, but I find those feelings in different ways, normally. I have a hard time cultivating relationships sometimes because of those differences. However, once I find someone who enjoys relating with me the ways that I like to be related to, all bets are off and a whole lot of my walls fall down. 

I’m not trying to discourage anyone from relating to anyone, but certain relationship types aren’t for me, personally. A lot of types are though. Try different kinds of relation. Come on, it’ll be fun.

A secondary note on gossip.We fall sometimes. That’s ok. 

Fall into a good book.

Fall in love.

Fall out of love.

Fall asleep. 

Fall into a hole.

Fall off of a snowboard. 

Fall into anything real and of consequence,

 just don’t fall into gossip. 

Embers

  Looking back at my posts from nearly a year ago (oh my, has it been that long?), I remember how I felt. Everything seemed so utterly meaningless. But I kept hope. My hope was in God, and it was beautiful. So, in the words of this song, I "kept the fire alive". Even though there have always been highs and lows in my life, even though things have changed a lot, God carried me through a lot of it.


Grateful and blessed <3

-KH

People, Races, Hillbillies and school....

Today was awesome :) first and foremost because of the people involved. 

We won our powderpuff football game, which was a spectacularly close win. Second, the cross country meet was awesome! I continually beat my time which is very, very encouraging. I understand Hebrews 12:1 much better now. 

  Also, it was "dress like a hillbilly day" at school, so I wore camo and cowgirl boots. It was a nice break from the school uniform. 

  But the thing that topped today and made it spectacular was the people. I've made some great friends down here who I feel perfectly comfortable around. Rebecca, Cody, Pattie, Peyton, Braden, Mason, Leah: y'all need to know that you're awesome. And very important to me :) thanks for being spectacular people. 

Quick post for a crazy day :) 

-KH

Response to Article "If You Send Your Kid To Private School, You Are A Bad Person."

http://www.slate.com/articles/double_x/doublex/2013/08/private_school_vs_public_school_only_bad_people_send_their_kids_to_private.html


^ The Article.

\/ The Response

This is nonsense. 

First of all, it states "It’s simple! Everyone needs to be invested in our public schools in order for them to get better." 
AND 
"if every single parent sent every single child to public school, public schools would improve." 

The public education system does not work for every single child. Some kids learn much better from staying home, or attending a smaller school with a smaller classroom. Not to mention, if this article got what it wanted, and every kid went to public school, the numbers of children per facility would be exponentially increased. The issue is the failure on the part of the government to efficiently use the money designated for the schools, as well as their obstinate opinion that "everything is fine". It is much easier for children to be drug down by a terrible school than for the children to lift the school up and make it more prestigious. 

Want to fix this problem? Send a letter to a state congressman. Don't rant about it on Slate, or suggest such ridiculous measures that in your solution, every child goes to public school. 

Team Rudolph

  Anyone who has seen me play traditional sports gets an idea of my capabilities very quickly. I am not Micheal Jordan, Lionel Messi, Troy Polamalu or Mario Lemu. Yes, these are all names I know. My point is that I don't tend to exactly shine when the ball gets thrown my way. Typically I dodge and hope there is minimal damage.While personally I know that my abilities lie elsewhere, these demonstrations of skill tend to make my fellow players wary in passing me the ball.... ever. Today I played with the Washington Street Church of Christ at a sports day. These people, even the ones who do not play competitively, play these games far more often than I do. I went with my cousin, and for the last few games of basketball, no one passed us the ball to the point that it became comical. We called ourselves Team Rudolph because, well, for clarification click this link.

  Sometimes it proverbially kills me to try to endure hours of team sports when no one will trust me with the ball, but at the same time it is a humbling experience and a lot of good can come out of not being the beast in a sport. Victors write the news and the history books, and I think often the guy who is cleaning stalls or striking it out on the basketball court overhears a lot of the victorious chatter. I like Iron Man 3 for a few reasons. First, the villain is cunning. More, the villain come out of nowhere. He begins a broke computer techie with big plans and eventually evolves into a villainous mastermind. The only reason the villain becomes a villain at all is because the good guy turns his back on him. Because the good guy failed to take an interest in what the villain had to say, the villain ended up ruthlessly demolishing both lives and property.
  My point in all this is to demonstrate the potency of faith in a fellow human and that fellow human's reaction to a lack of trust from others. If I'm on a basketball court and no one passes me the ball because I'm not a good player, I take it in stride because hey, it's just a game; but it makes me wonder how I would handle it if no one passed me a ball in the basketball court of life. Would I choose an aggressive path to yank the ball from their grasp, with not regard to the sanctity of their situation? Or, would I choose to wait patiently for the ball while doing nothing?

  As a Christian, it's important to keep practicing while I'm waiting for the ball to be passed. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bb7TSGptd3Y  This song, "While I am Waiting" by John Waller talks about "waiting" in our Christian lives. It's a powerful song, especially for young people. As a friend wrote:
"We often talk about our futuristic selves and wow! we're so patient, outgoing, hospitable, generous, and evangelistic. But if we aren't utilizing today to mold our hearts and abilities, time will creep up on us and we'll still be waiting on our new and improved futuristic selves to appear. God only gives us a day at a time -- it's up to us to make the most of it."


  I'll just close with that (: 

That's funny, you guys........ Not really.

  It seems like every time we move I get my hopes up for certain things. I pace off fields and woods dreaming of horses and cattle while my parents look on, watching my dreams formulate. After all, who are they to crush something when it is only in the daydream stage?

 The problem is that I've always wanted to put a horse on the property where I live, regardless of how good it would be for the horse or how well I could take care of it. So I've daydreamed, and it's always stopped there. Now we're moving to Tennessee, and I have 9 fenced off acres at my disposal and a barn that can easily be converted to a few stalls. Now I only have to wait to own a horse, so my fantasies have become a lot more real. I haven't let myself dream too much yet - I'll wait until we actually move down here until I start getting overly excited.

Beautiful Therapy

Today I learned about beautiful therapy - the power of love of beauty.

 Beauty in and of itself is not healing, but it often accompanies healing and is, perhaps, one of the greatest assets to "feeling better". Here's a quick summary of my notes on the subject:

Beautiful vs. Ugly. Ugly most certainly does not mean something that is physically ugly. Get in your mind and think of something that's ugly. Personally, murder and sloth come to mind. That's the kind of thing that consummate beauty can help with.
 "Here a beauty, there a beauty, everywhere a healing beauty."
- If you are surrounded by beauty, ugly things are easier to smother. Surround yourself with lovely things. Beauty varies per-person. 

 If you're in a rut in life, think about doing that thing that you love doing. Daydream and make beautiful things, because if you can change your mind into a beautiful place, you reap so much more from each moment. Everything is connected, everything is beautiful.

 Here's the thing. The physically beautiful things that I try to surround myself with are strange. During the session the speaker said that it could be a photograph of yourself doing a thing you love, or simply a very happy picture of yourself. Seeing "good" pictures of yourself is actually psychological therapy, while seeing a picture of anyone angry or confused (especially yourself) can cause a slight mental aggravation.

 Here's what I've done since that session;

 I pulled a laser-etched horse out of storage and put it on my window.
Made my computer background a picture of me on a horse.
Colored a glass coke bottle with a Sharpie.
Switched from conventional history notes to beautiful ones.
Started using colorful highlighters for bible study.
After the AP exam I'm even going to work on making my blog more beautiful.

I do not stress self-love. We don't have a problem loving ourselves. The main reason, the long term goal for therapy is to be able to love others and help those who need it. If our troubles emotionally impede us, we are not as effective in helping others.

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

Have you looked around?

 We live in a wicked and depraved generation. A generation where everything is comical and nothing is serious. What's the most serious thing you can think of? Demons? Outcasts? Oaths?
 All of those things have been turned into something comical by our generation! It quite honestly sickens me.

 Humor can be used in a beneficial manor. In fact, God gave us humor. He wants us to be able to laugh! Think about how sad simple existence would be without the giggle of a youngster or the laugh of an elderly lady. Also, humor builds bridges with people we otherwise would have nothing in common with.

 I think often, people say that God tells us to be serious constantly. The verse is often referenced "They will be judged for every careless word they speak." (Eph. 5:15-21). My interpretation of that verse is very different. We should *not* be filling ourselves with pointless or silly things. But there is room for clean humor. For instance "Once upon a time... there was salsa." is a pretty random and silly statement. It's pointless, so we shouldn't be filling our time with it, but occasionally it can break the ice and make people laugh.

 As for these people who say "I swear...", I wish they could see just how serious that it. Recently, I read a story called "Percy Jackson and the Olympians". It is a wonderful work of fiction, but one scene stands intensely in my mind. A scene where someone "swears" and it turns out to be a much bigger deal than predicted.

Thoughts?

Comment issues.

I'm having issues with the comment section on this blog. Can anyone help me figure it out? Blogger won't let me reply to comments or even create new comments on my own posts.

Thanks for any help I can get!

The one about approval.

 It seems as though the approval of other equivalent and persistently pessimistic humans puts our very morality at stake.
 If we were made to seek approval from others, we would die in spiral of unfathomable promises and decimated hopes. Like a cup of over-steeped tea, the bitterness could not be overshadowed by the honey of approval. Individuals who are, by all appearances, oblivious to the disappointment of the people around them put off a reckless air that they uphold with an outwardly invincible finesse. You know the type of people I've just described. They hold their heads proudly come hell or high water, and discipline, even of the most stringent sort, causes no apparent irreparable damage to them.

 I am never absolute on the best handling procedure for this type. I tend to ignore them until they drag my miffed expression into their tomfoolery. Now, these people, typically though not always male, vary in age. I'm reading the Harry Potter books to my younger brothers, and these young delinquents tend to blurt out spoilers such as "Snape's the half blood prince" and "Dumbledore dies" at no gain to themselves. Troublemakers like these who have only watched the movie and proceed to soil the experience for my brother make me twitch with indignation.

This year, summarized.

From this day one year ago to this day, I have grown and changed in many, many ways. I’ve experienced love,  and on the opposite end of the spectrum, heartbreak. I thought I knew so much before this year, and now I know that I know nothing. This year, continuously, I would feel as though I had it all together and the moment I felt collected, someone unceremoniously yanked the carpet of reality from under my feet and I fell flat on my face. This year has been a war of staying balanced on that rug that I never felt as though I could trust.

On April 16th, 2012, I lived in a house in New Oxford in a lovely, ignorant calm before the ensuing storm. Then we heard that there was a house we’d likely be moving into. I got excited because I like those kind of changes and I was ready to be in a much better location as it looked like this house would be. While my parents bravely endured the battle with the financing company, I was able to relax and focus on finals. Eventually, the company promised us that we could move in by the end of August and we listened to them. At the end of the month, we moved out of that house and went on a two-month homeless adventure. We switched from tents to yurts to cabins to friend’s houses to my grandparent’s houses. Eventually we talked to the owner of the house, signed papers on the hood of a truck in Hanover and moved in  that evening.

I can not present to you how I have grown this year without factoring death into the equation. I attended eight funerals this year, six of them family. The two that struck me the most, (if I was to pick two, because they were all really sad) were my Aunt Heather, who died suddenly after simply “not feeling well” and my Uncle Mark who committed suicide. Words don’t seem to be enough to say how that affected me this year.Especially the latter was the loss of a close friend that I never saw coming. Then, the rug of reality was brutally ripped from underneath me again.

But out of all this turmoil, this heartbreak, this fear and these tears comes a new chapter. I developed a relationship with his best friend, and I’ve stayed close to Amy, his fiance. I am surrounded by amazing people, and they showed me that I am, even when I’ve   emotionally lost my cool and mentally couldn’t remember what I had just read or heard. Some of my friends who took an interest in my emotional healing took me out and taught me to snowboard. Some people say that snowboarding is for punks, but I don’t think so. For me it’s more than a fun thing,it will always stand in my memory as a few hours when I couldn’t stop smiling in a time when I hadn’t truly smiled for weeks.

I love games. Pretty much all kinds of games. Sports, board games, mind games, card games etc. I love to read fiction even more. Sometimes I spend so much time reading fiction and playing games that I forget that school is important too. This year, I think AP and CC have helped me develop away from my game-playing obsession, though it never worked me out of my fiction reading fetish.

I was baptised on June 21st, 2011 and I’ve grown much closer to God since then. There was a phase when I questioned God, and was even mad at him, in the week when I attended two funerals. I learned that he was there, though. He had to drag me along my Christian walk sometimes to keep me going, but he was always there. I learned that trusting him is hard, but not impossible.

Last year tested my emotional capacity.

I lost much that was important to me. I learned that while I can not ignore my losses, I need to focus on the future. There are so many amazing things ahead, and likely terrifying things, but I will embrace them and add them to this crazy thing called life. I know myself better than I did one year ago, and I should not have written as much about myself if there were anyone whom I knew better. I am me, conveniently.

I’ll close with some song lyrics;
Everybody wants to slap your back, wants to shake your hand when you’re up on top of that mountain. But let one of those rocks give way, then you slide back down. Look up, and see who’s around then. When the water’s high, when the weather’s not so fair, when the well runs dry - who will be there? That’s when you find out who your friends are.

Mountains and moguls and snow - oh my!

Today is the last day of dear Ski Liberty. I feel the need to tell the story of just exactly how I, a horseback-riding, tea-drinking, wannabe-journalist black belt from a farm house came to snowboarding. Last year, winter 2011-12, I had these friends. They were quite simply pretty really totally awesome, and they invited me to come "snowboarding" - this thing of which I knew very little. I had been skiing a few times, and I had fun, but it wasn't "interesting". So they prodded a bit and I didn't come just because I just didn't feel like it. This year, winter 2012-13, they mentioned it again. I gave it little notice until I heard "discount". "Exactly how much does it cost?" I asked. They told me, and it was actually pretty do-able. After all, this is a one time thing, right? I went home and put the date on the calendar. It was the time during the school year where there doesn't seem to be much to look forward to, so I looked forward to going, I suppose.

 The first time I went, the weather was a lovely cloudy gray, and it was about 0 degrees Fahrenheit at the top of the mountain. We pulled in the vacant parking lot (being home-schooled I could go on a weekday :), and I saw a few punks walking into the lodge... I couldn't help but notice that they were all hoisting expensive, shiny snowboards. I wondered in passing what I had gotten myself into.

  So eventually we got outside of the lodge, snowboards in tow, and I watched as my friends who had taken me magically attached their boards to their feet and glided over the snow to the base of a lift. The youngest stayed behind for a moment. He looked at me and said "I think your lesson is in a minute or two. I'll be right back." I watched as both the group of friends departed for a lift to my far right, and the youngest of the group headed to one in the middle. They all got on the lifts, and were gone.

 "Hey, you're snowboarding?" asked a suave dude with a green coat, sunglasses and a bandanna. "Yeah." I said. "Okay, let's get started."
"OH COOL"  I thought. I grabbed my board and was planning on heading for the middle lift when the instructor turned towards the last place I thought I was going - the bunny slope. So my lesson continued. I managed, in the end, to get down without falling. That took a surprising amount of perseverance.

 Three months and many, many falls later, I was at the top of the mountain with my best friends. Maybe it was karate for a few years, maybe it was that I've known them since I was eight years old, maybe it was arisoft, maybe it was even snowboarding, but these people who at first drug me along made my "best friend" list, which is actually a pretty select list. Either way, I was at the top of the mountain. My friends were really REALLY patient with me, and I think if it wasn't for them I wouldn't have ever tried some of the slopes that I did this year. Yes, I did all of them besides the black diamonds. No, I haven't done moguls yet. Yes, I've gotten past the dorkiness of the helmet because it saved my life a few times.... or at least my skull. 

Pictures: Above; me and my friends, down (1) Dear sister and me (2) A photo I made. 

Moguls and mountains and lifts and lights, goggles and boards and snowball fights.

Daydreaming

I was studying pretty intently today, accomplishing a lot. My sister had previously been in my room and had way - I mean WAY - overdone it with the perfume. So I opened a window and shut off the heat. If you live where I do, it's about 60 degrees outside. That's really nice for the day before Easter. There I was, accomplishing things, when I realized that putting my desk next to the window was a really terrible design flaw. I ended up staring out the open window, a warm breeze tickling my face and a steady rush of perfume out the window. Also, I had finished a brutal water fight with my siblings (coughcough I lost coughcough) about an hour ago and dried, so I could smell the grass on me. It was just so warm and pleasant that I got to thinking, upon staring at the field outside my window, just how lovely it would be if I could have horses in that field. I began to wonder how much a barn would cost and how long it would take to build, I wondered what my parents would do if they had to take care of horses when I went to college, college doesn't have to be far away, does it? I wondered if I could take horses with me. I caught myself in the spiral of daydreaming. It was irritating that I had to break from it because I needed to study.

And that is the story of how my textbook got thrown out the window, kids.

5655 down, X number to go.

Interesting thought: I've only been on this earth for 5655 days.
That means I have approximately 22,995 days left.... not as long as I thought.

Hmm.... 23,000 sunrises.


Time to go do something important.

I have never met a slurry with worse manners; the sequel

 I thought I had met the most misbehaved slurry the other day. Today I realized that it really does have the worst manners imaginable.

 A dark, claustrophobic coffee shop was crowded. A line filled the place. It was a line of innocent people waiting for their caffeine. Upon seeing the extensive amount of people filling the place, my Hippie Aunt and I headed for the other side of the stores lining the road. It was a perfectly normal day, and the following story goes to show that a normal day can turn disastrous in a moment.

 As I strolled down the sidewalk, bouncing a fist-sized ball and passing absent-mindlessly the millions of shop windows and advertisements, I heard a noise. It wasn't just a noise, it was a crashing. Something was falling. Instinctively, I turned to see. All the while, thoughts rushed through my head, "What did I break? Do we have to take Aunt Jill to the hospital?". I turned just in time to see a sheet of ice plummeting from an awning onto my unsuspecting Aunt. The sheet shattered over her red hair like glass. It wasn't over yet. The ice was followed up .06 seconds later by a smattering of snow. Again, the slush was totally not socially acceptable. It could have thought "Oh, you look cold already, I'll just land a bit to the right." or "It will be most beneficial to the shoppers for me to land just seconds later.".

  I saw my Aunt double over, but she stood back up with her glasses in hand, laughing. Fortunately, minimal damage was done.
Yes, people were staring. I even saw one shopper's jaw drop. We successfully escaped that incident, and the shoppers returned to their shopping, exchanging murmurs and whispers among themselves. Though she did lose a hairpin.... as I said, minimal damage.

Now, for those of you who don't know my Aunt, she always elaborated that she wanted to die in a "freak accident". That's my aunt. All aversions to normality. She came up here from Alabama, expecting some nice white snow. Instead she almost experienced death by ice sheet.

I have never met a slurry with worse manners.

I braved the elements today, with all the mentality of avoiding procrastination. "Today," I told myself "I'll shovel the driveway without even taking time to double-layer socks. Then I'm sure to avoid procrastination." Only a minute later I was dressed and shoveling the thick clumps of the indignant, icy stuff off the pavement. I silently congratulated myself for not procrastinating on this arduous task. About fifteen minutes into the job, I was bent over my shovel, hauling the maximum amount of snow possible, back straining, eyes tearing from the blistering wind, mind focused, when everything changed.

 I heard a low rumbling, and looked up to see my soaking demise. Red, flashing, and screaming in a fury best described as "huge", a snow plow came around the corner. I was happier when my view of it was obstructed by the hill in the yard. Just in the split second that I looked up to see the brutal machine, I saw flying towards me a monumental pile of ice, slush and other unidentified gray matter from the road. In a splendid trajectory towards me, this pile had no plans of stopping or saying "I'll be considerate and land just to your right.". I have never met a slurry with worse manners. So I was to be found, continuing my task of snow removal from the driveway covered (from the fur-lined top of my hunter green parka to the tips of my black boots) in the previously described pile of snow, ice, and gray matter.

 Upon speculating the evidence of my task completed, a clear driveway, I dropped the shovel by the door. I strode into the gloomy garage undefeated. So you see, even though I was indignant towards that particularly rude spray of snow, the snow plow itself was no match for me.

Date a Girl Who Reads

There is story that I nearly fell in love with. Though I see that the world tends to bring dating and relationships into everything. If the story wasn't about "dating", I'd like it a lot more. Never the less; read on.

Date a girl who reads. Date a girl who spends her money on books instead of clothes. She has problems with closet space because she has too many books. Date a girl who has a list of books she wants to read, who has had a library card since she was twelve.
Find a girl who reads. You’ll know that she does because she will always have an unread book in her bag.She’s the one lovingly looking over the shelves in the bookstore, the one who quietly cries out when she finds the book she wants. You see the weird chick sniffing the pages of an old book in a second hand book shop? That’s the reader. They can never resist smelling the pages, especially when they are yellow.
She’s the girl reading while waiting in that coffee shop down the street. If you take a peek at her mug, the non-dairy creamer is floating on top because she’s kind of engrossed already. Lost in a world of the author’s making. Sit down. She might give you a glare, as most girls who read do not like to be interrupted. Ask her if she likes the book.
Buy her another cup of coffee.
Let her know what you really think of Murakami. See if she got through the first chapter of Fellowship. Ask her if she loves Alice or she would like to be Alice.
It’s easy to date a girl who reads. Give her books for her birthday, for Christmas and for anniversaries. Give her the gift of words, in poetry, in song. Give her Neruda, Pound, Sexton, Cummings. Let her know that you understand that words are love. Understand that she knows the difference between books and reality but by god, she’s going to try to make her life a little like her favorite book. It will never be your fault if she does.
She has to give it a shot somehow.
Lie to her. If she understands syntax, she will understand your need to lie. Behind words are other things: motivation, value, nuance, dialogue. It will not be the end of the world.
Fail her. Because a girl who reads knows that failure always leads up to the climax. Because girls who understand that all things will come to end. That you can always write a sequel. That you can begin again and again and still be the hero. That life is meant to have a villain or two.
Why be frightened of everything that you are not? Girls who read understand that people, like characters, develop. Except in the Twilightseries.
If you find a girl who reads, keep her close. When you find her up at 2 AM clutching a book to her chest and weeping, make her a cup of tea and hold her. You may lose her for a couple of hours but she will always come back to you. She’ll talk as if the characters in the book are real, because for a while, they always are.
You will propose on a hot air balloon. Or during a rock concert. Or very casually next time she’s sick. Over Skype.
You will smile so hard you will wonder why your heart hasn’t burst and bled out all over your chest yet. You will write the story of your lives, have kids with strange names and even stranger tastes. She will introduce your children to the Cat in the Hat and Aslan, maybe in the same day. You will walk the winters of your old age together and she will recite Keats under her breath while you shake the snow off your boots.
Date a girl who reads because you deserve it. You deserve a girl who can give you the most colorful life imaginable. If you can only give her monotony, and stale hours and half-baked proposals, then you’re better off alone. If you want the world and the worlds beyond it, date a girl who reads.
Or better yet, date a girl who writes.

Stack o' Literature

Just a picture of books that I own and have to read.

I'm making my New Year's resolution right now.
"Read through this list of books"

Books on my e-reader that I don't have pictured here are:
Green Tea, Joseph Sheridan
The Legend of Sleepy Hollow, Washington Irving
The Blithedale Romance, Nathaniel Hawthorne
Emma, Jane Austin
Sense and Sensibility, Jane Austin
Story of My Life, Helen Keller



Thoughts on these titles?

Have a Very Geeky Christmas.....

Doctor Who is my favorite. "Party like it's 1705, 2015, 1991, 1942, 1233, 302BC, 1998."



( I hope Hank sees this xD )

How Not to Comfort Someone

 It hurts to see how inept the human race is at comforting a fellow human. We're the same species, after all. So, read this, and get an idea as to how not to comfort someone. Pay much attention to the "NOT" part of this. If you try to comfort someone in these ways, it's worse than just leaving them be.

 Number 1: Try to change the subject while they're telling you about a traumatic/painful situation. When they're disclosing, it's their turn to talk about what they NEED to talk about, not what you WANT to talk about. It doesn't seem as though this needs said, but it does. Changing the subject will not create an easier situation for anyone.
"I just miss her so much, I -"
"So, did you see that Bears game?"

Number 2: Tell them to move on. Seriously. A person doesn't simply "recover" from a traumatic/painful situation. If it is a terrible thing, especially loss, they likely will think about it every day of their life. They will not move on because someone alluded to the fact that they should. They need to COPE with the grief, not move on.
"I can't believe it's been a year since [thusandsuch] happened."
"Only that long? Time to move on."

Number 3: Upon hearing of the event, message them on Facebook, email, etc. Use your phone to CALL them, if you must, but for the sake of sanity, no Facebook. These messages are impersonal and seemingly not thoughtful. Unless you have no vocal cords to utter the words, CALL them. Or, in select cases, visit them. Unless it is a death in the family, and the family wants to be alone to grieve together. Oh, and when you make this phone call, be prepared to... are you ready for this? *LISTEN* TO THEM! They might need to unload some thoughts, and hey, you have EARS with which to listen! It is amazing how consoling an open ear can be. Which brings me to my next point.
[instant message from ---]
"hey man. heard wut happned. srry. need anything u can lemme know dude."

Number 4: Well, you'll have to say something, right? WRONG. You can just let them talk and unload their thoughts, without saying a word! If you're honestly prepared to listen, you're the most useful to that person. Avoid asking questions pertaining to the event. They'll tell you the information they want you to hear, asking questions will likely lead to sometime that will trample their feelings or make them feel as though you do not feel the gravity of the event.

Number 5: Tell them you know how they feel. You don't. It doesn't matter if you've experienced the same situation, you haven't. Every situation is unique. Nothing gives you permission to tell them how great you are comforting someone.
"My grandfather passed away. His heart failed."
"Oh yeah, mine did too. And I know exactly how you feel. This one guy tried to relate to me but he totally didn't get it."

In summary, be there for them, but don't prod them or tell them how to cope. Healing will come with God and time, but you can't control either of those.


Go comfort someone.