Monday, January 31, 2005

I'm on a Xanga spree. I just thought I'd let you all know that my foul mood has passed. I had a really good day even though it was REALLY busy. I Xanga'd out my feelings, went to sleep and woke up ready to continue with life.
On a slightly more sour note, several of my close friends seem to have developed a tiff of sorts. I just want to proclaim that I remove myself from all dealings with this incident and will not suffer it discussed in my presence. Work out your problems on your own time because I'm busy enough as it is.
My Little Lisa Super "Mom" sent me two packages of coffee from her trip to the Caribbean. Goodbye foul mood, hello java!
Wow, this is my fourth entry for the day, but I just came to the realization of what sparked this mood.
I normally do not remember my dreams, but this one still haunts me now. I fell asleep Saturday afternoon and had one of the most bizarre dreams. I was a new student at Northwest, and I signed up for the newspaper staff. I worked really hard and never stopped running from one event to the next (literally) while juggling classes, and lo and behold I became editor of the Northwest Missourian in just one month. Disturbing, no? Actually that's not what got to me. It's the fact that I was the only person on campus. I was completely alone in my rush to cover events and go to classes, and I'm wondering if that's some kind of wake up call for me. I'm not sure how I was able to work so much when I was the only person at all in my dream, but I sure did. I wonder what this could mean? Is this the beginning of some form of breakdown? I must admit that I felt very lonely this weekend, but also very antisocial. I keep to myself, and I'm not sure that's a bad thing. Is all of my hard work in vain? Is so, why? I'm not sure what to make sure of this, but I do know that I will be retracing my thoughts of the past week to possibily find this source of unrest.

Sunday, January 30, 2005

Well it turns out that my religious talk and my visit to Kansas City are somewhat alike, but I don't know where to start. I guess I'll begin with silence.
Silence is an idea that can surround you in the busiest, most hectic times of your life. Silence can soothe the soul, but that is not the silence I speak of tonight. I speak of the silence of god. Mankind has sought for the meaning of life forever, but that is not what I demand of god. I have a much more demanding question. What is the meaning of death? I don't know how many times I asked this of god, but I still hear nothing. Silence does not strengthen my faith. I've been waiting for this answer for eight years, and time has done nothing except dull the memories of my past. I still hear nothing.
I do not think that I have a fear of death, but rather a hatred of death. I don't hate death because it tears our loved ones from us prematurely, but because god does not answer for death. "It was meant to be." Oh, how many times have I heard this excuse? Silence remains my only answer to the real question.
After my mom died, I turned to religion. I was an adamant Christian and I lived my life dedicated to god, but I received no relief from the pains of life. I did not find healing of my wounds. I wasted a year and a half of my life to religion, and I have nothing to show for it except becoming a social loner. Disappointment reigned in my religious life. Disappointment reigns in my attempts at religion now.
The last conversation I had with my mom saddens me even today. I remember it well. She was in the hospital room with my aunt, uncle, cousins, grandma and other relatives and she told me that she felt bad because we would have to celebrate my birthday in the hospital. I knew that she would not live to see my thirteenth birthday. I don't know why I didn't say anything. I just nodded and tried to reassure her that I was okay spending my thirteenth birthday in the hospital. I believe that conversation occured the evening Wednesday, June 18th, 1997. I still don't know how I resisted the tears that so threatened to consume me on that day.
That was the last time I ever talked to my mother. She and I were the best of friends in my life, and I never got to talk to her privately. I don't remember when I last talked to her alone, but I never talked to her alone during the four days when we discovered she had liver cancer.
She battled eye cancer for three years, went practically blind in her right eye, and as she improved and the cancer went into remission, god, by some "plan," decided to strike her again with liver cancer. I still don't understand why it happened. She maintained her faith throughout her battle with her illness, but in the end god simply played another card to kill her swiftly. Disappointment...that's what I feel about god and religion.
On the morning of June 19th, 1997, I saw my mother "alive" for the last time. She was in the intensive care unit at the Independence Regional Health Center. She was not responsive, and the bleak surroundings of the room seemed to drain the life from her faster than the cancer. I don't remember what happened in that room, but I know that I did not stay for long. Life support can keep a body alive, but god decided to kill her. You can't fight against this almighty bully.
Almost eight years passed since that day. I drove down to Independence yesterday evening to visit my mother's grave at the cemetery, but the place was closed. Although I had no ill intent, I did not want to simply jump the gate and wander through the graveyard full of those who died and came to rest in this mockery of life known as a well-maintained yard full of stones hiding hundreds of bodies underneath the cold, dark soil.
Instead of going to her grave, I went to the place where she died. I made it all the way to the parking garage, but I couldn't continue. I've been to that hospital since that fateful day, but that was to see my mom's mom, and she died there (or nearby) too. I sat in my car in that parking lot and willed the emotions to come forth, but instead I only experienced a dull ache. Eight years of absence does not yield the strong feelings of the past. I sensed death at that place, and it was overwhelming.
I could have gone to other places that night, but I did not. I could have gone to the church where we prayed for her healing and grieved as a congregation. I could have gone to the auditorium where she was supposed to see me graduate. I could have gone to the houses I grew up in and thought about the past. I could have gone to my aunt and uncle's house and sat where I was when we received the call that she died. Instead I turned my mind away from the torture of grief and tried to find something to do. I was all alone in the city, but I couldn't stand the thought of talking to anyone.
Where was this gracious god then? Where is this god now? I don't want your answers. I don't want your pity. I just want the silence to end. I doubt that will happen. Am I an unbeliever? No, but I am not going to try to find some almighty being who allows the silence to permeate my life for eight years. I'm tired of doing the work, god. When will you stop the silence?
"faith is for the fortunate ones. all this pain and all this anger cannot be undone. cause the only prayer you answered then was to make it swift and painless in the end. so how can I forgive you? oh god, you let me down."
Another note for those of you anxiously awaiting an authentic update:I did some serious thinking yesterday and I have a whole idea sitting in my mind about religion, but I'm not sure I want to get into it over Xanga. I definitely have some issues with this "religion" thing, and you might just get to hear all about it.
I went to KC last night to visit someone, but it didn't happen. I'm not sure that I'll go into that one either. It's a bit of an odd subject. Anyways, I've wasted yet another weekend and I'm still not a better person because of it. Massive spending on my behalf left me reaching for the charge card and balances the pros and cons of buying new clothes. In the end, I decided that it was time to upgrade a few items and I ended up spending over $300. Smart idea? Probably not, but I sure will be styling...sort of.
Well, life awaits...but homework is still in the way. Talk at you later.

Thursday, January 13, 2005

These are the thoughts which come to mind tonight:
1. If you're in an upper level English composition class, you should be able to execute proper noun-verb agreement.2. If you know you have a problem with some aspect of grammar, such as affect/effect, attempt to commit the difference to memory. (Affect is a verb. Effect is a noun.)3. If you like to write, you should like to read. If you can't stand reading, then you're probably not working on improving your writing by reviewing your own work or the work of others.3.14.... Pi is a worthwhile number to include in a list of ideas. Although commonly used in mathematics, pi has its place in the writing world too.4. If you don't like a book, have a reason for not liking it. "I don't know," does not give any form of feedback on the quality of the work. "It didn't appeal to me," does help, but you could be more specific.5. If you want to be a writer, work on your writing.6. If you know someone who wants to be a writer, read their work and let them know what you think.7. All novels are not created equally. Not every book will be a gem.8. Alphabetizing books by author helps organize libraries and bookstores, but it sure would suck to have the last name of Zuzobitz. (I made that name up, but he/she could be an author.)9. You don't have to write about things that are familiar to you, but please research a topic before writing extensively about it.10. Spell check is not of the gods, and you should always proofread your writing and keep a dictionary within 10 feet of the computer.11. Microsoft Word's ability to fix common mistakes in typing sucks when you intentionally mess up.12. When Word fixes a word you spell incorrectly automatically, it is doing a disservice to the writer. How does one know he/she spelled a word wrong if the computer doesn't even underline it for a second?13. Learn the difference between your/you're, their/there/they're, and than/then. I grasped these concepts in third grade, and if you've made it to college without realizing the difference, maybe you should look into the possibility of a learning disability.14. Bad grammar and spelling is not excusable just because it's in a Xanga or on IM.15. Infrequent Blog or Xanga updating is not a deadly sin, but it is common courtesy to update when two or more weeks have elapsed since your last entry.16. Passive voice has its occasional merit of usage, but it is not acceptable as a regular grammar tool. If a teacher tells you it is okay to use passive voice, question his/her ability to teach in the English language.17. Math and science students are not excused from using proper English. Although knowledge of calculus or molecular biology is beyond me, every person should be able to communicate in his/her native tongue.18. America's status as a world power does not permit its citizens to discriminate against non-Americans.19. If you are from America and you visit a foreign country, do not expect everyone to speak American English. Do not disrespect people who do not speak English.20. One does not always read the same text with the same interpretation as the previous time. Some books offer new worth as a person evolves/devolves as a reader.21. It is okay to make a list that does not end in 0 or 5. Many lists are ruined because people attempt to meet this unwritten rule. I, however, will not end on a conventional number.

Tuesday, January 11, 2005

Serious contemplation of a fortune cookie's message...
I had Hunan Chicken for dinner tonight, and upon reading my fortune after dinner, it brought about some serious consideration for me. What did it say?
"Including others in your life will bring you great happiness."
This message, although found in a cookie, makes me pause to consider my personality of late. Social enough in normal conversations, I find myself avoiding other people in my life. Withdrawing back into my shell like some sheepish hermit crab is my current practice. I'm not sure what I wish to blame it on. I could say the weather and my natural distaste of this bitter season lead me back into myself, but I'm not sure that's entirely the reason I remove myself from the social scene when the sun goes down.
Although I have no problem interacting with people I meet, I tend to avoid encounters with friends and coworkers outside of routine meetings in classrooms, meeting rooms or on the sidewalk. I'm a loner at heart, and whether that extends from my dependence on self for writing or something else remains to be seen. I must admit that I wax poetic when I interact with no one but myself. I can provide a facade of social ability through written communication and short stints of interaction, but I rarely desire any kind of extended interaction. I think I may regret this someday, but I'm not sure I want to break out of my usual character.
"You value quality relationships over quantity relationships. While others may boast of hundreds of acquaintances, you will find security in deep relationships with a smaller number of people.
In new interpersonal situations, you may appear hesitant in relationships with others, and not easily risking or extending trust. This relates to your rather self-contained and cautious manner.
You may be passive and even cautious in your behavior toward others. On first meeting people, you may be somewhat suspicious, wanting to be more studying of others than revealing of yourself."

Straight out of the most extensive personality test I have ever taken is the result of my musings. Is there anything wrong with behaving in this manner? I would say no, but from now on, I'm going to consider this fortune, and seriously thinking of this simple, chance message.
"Including others in your life will bring you great happiness"
...in bed? I doubt it.