Who Are You to Lead These People?

I HATE sharing things. Hate Hate Hate Hate. And I don't mean physical things. Sure, you can borrow my blanket, or have some of my apple, or wear my skirt. Whatever. Those things are incredibly unimportant. No, I mean I have an intense aversion to sharing personal things, like thoughts, dreams, memories and the whatnot.

And it's not just the fact that I feel vulnerable. Haha, I wish that were all. I mean, I hear the little voice in my mind that warns me that I'm being absurdly open, but if it were just a little voice that I had to overcome it'd be a much smaller job. I think I have a physical aversion to sharing as well. I get all shaky, my legs shake like I have shivers from the cold, my teeth chatter to the point where I can barely speak, my hands fidget so that anything that can be torn up around me will be utterly destroyed, my breath can't be caught and I just go completely weak, and huge tears well up and completely blind me (and since crying is one of my LEAST favorite activities this one might be the worst aspect, for me). So in order for me to actually get over all of it and talk about the more intimate aspects of life I don't just overcome that general need to self-protect. oh no. It is soooo much more.

I know that I'm generally very personable. Sure. Why not? I can talk to anybody about nothing forever, but if the subject ever gets too close to home... well, let's just say that it usually dosen't ever get too close.

I don't know what makes me so uncomfortable. I don't know if everyone experiences things like this. Maybe I'm just a suuuper private person. That's what I've always attributed it to anyway. But lately, I'm starting to think I might be wrong on that one.

Not Sober Enough to Say: No, Not Drunk Enough to Say: GO AWAY!

So I honestly believe that a person is their truest self when intoxicated. haha... Maybe this is a foolish perception, and if you disagree I would love to hear an argument against it, but I think that the person you are drunk is a very close resemblance of who you are at your core.

Of course this could just be me. And if that is the case, I'm completely ok with it. When intoxicated I become the girl I was when I was much younger, a time when I had more self confidence, and (though sometimes this is not such a good thing) less self-restraint. I become the life of the party, fun-loving, outgoing, and very, and sometimes brutally, honest. My sober self is much more reserved. Not that I wish I were this other girl more of the time, if this were the case I would just change, but if I could choose a person to be after a beer or two, the person I am isn't far from my ideal. This may be why I don't find it horrible to say that I believe a root core of oneself is expressed while slightly intoxicated.

However, I think people who are "sad drunks" generally feel differently. They find intoxication a time to lament those things which they generally keep bottled. I still think this is in true form of who they are, but just like me and my reserved "sober self", they hide their sadness from a society which believes that sadness is one of the least acceptable emotions.

I believe people who are truly sad become more depressed when drunk, I believe people who are angry become more angry, truthful people become more honest and happy people become more outgoing. Deep people contemplate more, horny people try to hook up, weird people just get weirder, people who are hiding who they really are let loose, and responsible people end up remembering everything in the morning and making sure everyone got home alright from the night before.

Of course I have just a few days under a year of experience with alcohol.... This is simply what I have observed in 363 days... and I could very easily be totally off base
:-D

Memory Lane Must Run Parallel with Future Ave.

So today I went to visit my old high school. Mesquite High... home of the Wildcats... (WILDCATS IN THE HOUUUSE!... haha... riiight). The trip was... not what I expected, to say the least.

Hanging out with my old teachers was great. I got to see Mrs. Abbott, Mrs. Paulson, Dr. Kramer, Mr. Stone and Mr. Brabec, and the only teacher I missed that I had really meant to see was Mr. Dole, my old science teacher. haha. And going to see these old teachers was amazing. A few of them I got to catch up with a bit, hear about their lives in the past 4 years, talk about my degrees, my lab and moving to Europe, but I the coolest part of talking with my old teachers was getting to share a bit with them that I am reluctant to share with most people.

Most people don't know all my reasons for wanting to move back to England. Yes, I have many friends there, yes, I loved living there, yes, I am a very private person, yes, I have lots of thoughts that I don't share with anyone... haha. But getting to share one of my most secret reasons with one of my favorite teachers, one of the women who has inspired me most in life, I felt more encouraged than I could possibly describe. She was actually happy for me. She didn't question me, she didn't ask me to rethink it or ask if I was sure or not about my reason. No. Instead she smiled, congratulated me, was excited for me and asked for all the details. *sigh* It was the exact reaction that I have never gotten that I've always wanted.

Although this alone would have made my day and I certainly was not expecting it, two other things happen when I was entering my old school which still slightly baffle my mind.

1) I walked in from the student lot. I came in right as classes were getting out and I was hoping to swing in just as most of the students were leaving, but before the teachers. This wasn't the weird part. The weird part came one right after the other as I was walking onto the campus. I was about to cross the street from the lot to the building, but I guess people have to wait to cross the street (haha... at 16 people are still apparently too dumb to know when or not to cross the street from the incoming buses.) and the crossing guard called out "ma'am, you have to come on this side... these crazy kids might accidentally run you over. Most of them just got their licences, you know." I looked up... was she talking to me?! There was no one else there. I looked around me to make sure there wasn't someone else near me. Nope... I was the "ma'am"... This was weird thing number 1.

2) So eventually I got to cross the street. Walking into the school a crowd of kids start walking toward me, some of the girls were walking backward and flirting (haha... I definitely remember thinking that not only was this talented, but cool at one point of time) And some guy in the group looks toward me and says to the girl trying to get his attention "hey, turn around, some lady is behind you... don't run into her." I looked up and he smiled, like he had just something gentlemanly or something... meh, maybe it was... but LADY?! me? I'm not OLD. some LADY... humph.... urg.

I guess I don't really think of myself as an adult. Yes, I will be a college grad in 4 months... whatever. It's still weird. I guess the great part of the experience was with Abbott, but the stuff with the students make me giggle... lady. haha.

My 2008 Memories...ish

So I was inspired by my roommate's blog to do this...

Happy 2009!!!! but first, a quick view through my 2008:

January: break ups and continent movements... Arrive in Heathrow to the terror of fog and rain! Move into my single room in Leicester (a city which most people still can't pronounce off the spelling) and make new friends... FAST.

February: Meet the Dutch and Leicester Navs... BEST DECISION EVER. Katy comes to visit... "pro: he has an accent, con: if we have kids they'll call me mummy and that will make me feel Egyptian." Travel to Scotland. Finally get my mind back.

March: make a plan for the 5 week break, leave for the 5 week break, backpack through the Czech Rep, Germany, France, Switzerland, Italy and Greece.

April: Continue trip through Spain, France (again), Belgium and Holland. Then finally back to England. Awkwardness and freedom ensues. Turn 21, dance on a bar in Paris.

May: Parents visit. Goodbye Leicester, temporarily. Jesus saves the day when I least expect it. Katie comes to town.

June: Travel to France and Italy, again. Traveling with Katie Sherer is uber easy. Off to Wales, "be still my beating heart", chill with Ruth and Zoe.

July: mission trip to Holland, chillax and regroup with EDGErs and begin to remember what American Christians are like, even though these are not the typical ones. Back to England, I love you Ruth and Zoe! London and Southampton were great, and a thanks to Colin for the breakfast.

August: A miserable return to the Phoenix heat. A horrible time reasjusting to America... back to UofA, back to responsible life, but living with Ashley... yep... thats probably the one good thing about August. haha.

September: Another month of dullness, though I have made friends with some of the coolest Juniors in the world. Begin Twilight addiction.

October: Apply for England. Oh how I miss Leicester.

November: The WORST month of college...EVER. ULGH is this year over yet?!

December: pass cell bio. bunk the beds. guitar for Christmas. bring in the new year by watching Pride and Prejudice with my daddy.

Summary: So from 2008 I learned about my ability to sleep in sketchy places, make new friends with ease, say "no", and how much I feel more at peace outside the USA, at least for now. By this time next year who knows where I'll have been or where I'll be writing from, what I do know is that Jesus taught me the intertwined nature of grace, acceptance, and love.