Nessy v. Frost... Summary: Robert Kicks Butt

My European excursion changed me. Yes. But I think the decisions I made upon my return of my how I was going to change my old ways, though some have subsided into... reality, has stayed constant.

In my last two months in Europe I had a revelation. An uncomfortable revelation. A revelation that I had to do something about. I could have easily ignored it, it is one of those things that sleeps deep beneath the surface and so rarely resurfaces that one can count it as unreleased stress of something else when it does come out. But because it is one of those things that I rarely ponder, yet it has a strong and unrelenting hold in my life, I decided it was time to pull the monster up, slap him around and evict him from his previous residence. I will not be daunted by some scary memory. Or at least that is what I thought.

So I came home, sad about leaving, but excited for my approaching victory, and set about finding a way to begin processing. And my search was concluded with my brand new mentor. I couldn't have asked for anyone better. We eased into each other's crazy and quirky personalities and all was going great... last week she suddenly reminded me what I had asked of her on our first meeting. To help me work though my monster. Crap. So we settled on a book to work through and a regular meeting time. Done and Done. And step 1: not so bad.

That was 5 weeks ago.

This week we met, she told me how to get the book, one of the girls I regularly meet with had a copy, and when I accidentally ran into her on the way home she was able to give it to me. And as soon as she handed it over... there it was. My monster. Staring me straight in the face.

I saw the cover: harmless. It wasn't until I glanced at the back. That sentence. The one sentence summary that so bluntly described my life. My deeply hidden monster. And he stared back at me... smiling.

When I got back to my room I put the book on back of my desk. Face up. It took most of my self-control not to hide it in one of my drawers. But my real test came when I was packing my backpack for the day... putting everything I would need for the day in that bag. And hence was my dilemma: Would I need my dreaded book for the day, or better yet, ever? I could leave it there, lying on a pile of books, or I could take it with me, and even if I didn't find time to read it between classes, exams, and social engagements, I would have intent. I would have a goal. I would venture in to the unknown depths of which my monster lived and reclaim the space which he had so long consumed.

And so I chose the later.

I haven't read it yet. Heck, I haven't even opened it. But I brought the book with me. I took my second step to kicking the crap out of that damn monster.

In the end it makes me think of Robert Frost...

...I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

Who Knew I'd Be So Happy About School?!

I'm not really all that academically motivated. I mean, I enjoy school. I enjoy learning and reading and whatnot, but as far as degrees and credit is concerned, I'm not all that bothered. So, it came as a great surprise to me how ecstatic I was after my credit check yesterday.

At the University of Arizona I have received an 8 semester scholarship which adds up to about $15,000 per year with the occasional reward scholarship when I apply for something extra. I was rewarded this based on my grades in high school and my SAT and ACT (Basic University entrance exams) scores. So you could say that I do pretty well in school. However, during my college years I have become less academically motivated and the longer I am in school the less I care about how well I do in it. And perhaps this is because I now know what I'll be doing after graduation, or because, though I enjoy my degree, I realize that is will come of little use for me later in life, or so it seems at this point. Whatever the reason, school doesn't make me anxious or worry me very much, I mean yes, big exams can get under my skin, but usually I am pretty lax about exam outcomes.

It is because of this attitude regarding my academic record that I shocked myself yesterday. I am getting two degrees at the University of Arizona. One in Molecular and Cellular Biology with a minor in History, and one in Religious Studies with a minor in Chemistry (don't ask about the pairing). And you are required at least five months prior to graduation to apply for your finished degree. Yesterday I applied. No, I'm not going to finish until May of 2009, but I wanted to make sure that I was going to finish on schedule. So when I went in and found out I was only lacking in one class and I was ahead of schedule I was astonished. It has been my hope and prayer that my last semester I could simply glide into graduation without worrying about too much work. I could focus on my job and be relatively un-bothered about school, but I figured England kinda ruled that one out for me, however, yesterday I found out different. And I was so elated! But it wasn't the record that astonished me, I was pretty sure that I was only lacking in one class, but the feeling in relief.

After trying to figure out exactly why I felt so free it came to me: This Is It. I've finished. For 22 years I'll have been working toward the same goal: graduating from college. And now someone official finally said that it is finished, and it was someone whose opinion actually mattered! I have officially accomplished something valid and difficult in my life. AMAZING. Who knew?!

Loving Where I'm At

I've been yearning to write something for a while, but had no clue what to put down. And while watching a film I just purchased it came to me. One of the lessons I am currently struggling to learn and appreciate.

I am 21. I am a Christian. I cannot pretend to be more mature that I am. I cannot react with more maturity than I have. I can only live and make decisions with the information and ability I have at hand.

I think Americans are forced into maturing at a younger age than people in other countries. Or at least that is how it seems in all the countries I have lived in thus far. And this is probably why we all look so old in comparison to the rest of the world. As a Christian, and due to some of my past experiences, I feel maturity was thrust upon me at an age that I could not cope with it yet and so... I rebelled. If there is one thing I am good at in this life, it is rebelling.

So now I am trying not to pretend. I want to live life being who I am right now. That doesn't mean I stop growing. That doesn't mean I make stupid decisions. Actually, I don't really know what it means. But what I think it means is that I forgive myself when I am stupid, that I congratulate myself when I succeed, and that I enjoy growth as it comes.

I mean, honestly, if we were meant to know at 19 what we know by the time we are 60 then we wouldn't have to wait till we were 60 to know... whatever it is that I don't know yet.

:-)

Back to Life, Back to Reality...

Getting back into the swing of life in America is quite an adjustment. And I think the largest adjustment is learning how to live here being who I am now. Eight months abroad changed me drastically, and I feel as if the lessons God is teaching me now are a mere consequence of the fact that growth has occurred so much in my life recently.

The woman I am now is so incredibly different from the one that left Tucson. It isn't simply a change of mind, or mindset that has taken place. I think differently. I react differently. I am... different. I am tidy (That one is just weird to cope with), I am a mac user (that was a consequence of my team and friends in Holland), I like to work out, I don't enjoy driving, I love reading. I am not ashamed of who I am. I am not as ashamed of how I look. I forgive faster. I don't find fault with people as quickly or as often, and when I do I try to forget about it or ask forgiveness for it. And I think the largest adjustment is my honesty. I am far more open with people, and I am a woman who is never open. Trust, with me, is just something that people rarely get, or perhaps I should say "got". Since I have returned I am a new and more honest person. Perhaps most people would still call me emotionally reserved, but my transition from never being open to being just average is a long and painful journey, for me.

Living as this new person in an old environment is odd. But I wouldn't say all this change occurred in England. My alterations have been a continual process since the day I got on the plane to Heathrow from Sky Harbor. Slow... sometimes painful (most times, actually)... and challengingly uncomfortable.

Oh Liz... thats so you!

I think the most odd thing about being back in Tucson is people "knowing" me. I mean, while I was abroad I kept in touch with some people and all, but in the past few days I have heard more "only you would do that"s and "I'm so glad you're back, that was missing from our group"s that I'm kinda thrown for a loop. It's not a bad thing, not at all. In fact, I rather like being well known and established, but it's weird.

In England I was mysterious... well... sorta. Different to say the least. I wasn't English and anyone could easily tell. My sayings, actions, thoughts, and accents were all different. I wasn't predictable. And perhaps that is to some extent what people mean here too. I am, by nature, a rule bender (if not an outright rule breaker). I am spontaneous and pretty laid-back. And I suppose that if a person is those things enough that those out of the ordinary, crazy-type things do begin to define them.

Today I was telling someone about a conversation I had in England. When I had finished they smiled and said "you know, only you would do something like that." And I began to think and wonder if I have been pegged here. Tucson is comfortable. Maybe that's why it bugs me. I can fall into a pattern here. And the most exciting things about being back have been those few times that I have been placed in a position I wasn't expecting. Being thrown into situations where I don't want to be, where I am uncomfortable, where I didn't know what to expect or what to do have been the best ones thus far.

I think one of my favourite (and I must spell that one the English way) memories abroad was where I was talking to strangers about Jesus with Bernard (my Nav leader in England) and he introduced me as a girl who had come from America especially to meet them. I was shocked. I hadn't been warned. I was thrown completely under the bus. I am an extrovert, true, but this was a whole different level of extroversion than I am comfortable expressing. But I did it. I ended up talking to them about... something. And, obviouslly, I lived to tell the tale. And what I took from the situation was that meeting new people probably won't kill me. I had met new people before then, but it was on my own terms. This time I was flexable. I was out of my comfort zone. And in the end I loved it.

"There is no comfort in the growth zone and no growth in the comfort zone." - wow. What a great quote to describe my life.

You Disagree?... We Can Be Friends Now

I love to talk. And when I say that, what I mean is that I love to converse. To hear someone else's perspective on things that I have thought and learned about, or to hear something completely new. To present my own ideas and have feedback, whether positive or negative, from another person. And it is for this very reason that I have the close friends that I do.

I think that there are few people in this world who feel free to disagree with someone else, or present an opposing argument during a conversation and not feel so overwhelming passionate that they wind up offended in the end. My closest friends are the people who I can talk to, tell my stories to, share my opinions with and they might not always agree with what I say and they tell me. People who care enough to tell me when I am nuts or crazy or just all out wrong.

Recently I was having a conversation with a close friend of mine. She and I live in different parts of the States so we don't see each other that often, but when we do have the opportunity to catch up she feels free to tell me her exact thoughts. We were discussing the new law which passed in the city of Tempe stating that institutions which sell alcohol (clubs and bars) can refuse to permit or serve to any resident of Arizona without a "horizontal licence" (basically, in the state of Arizona you are given a licence that reads vertically if you are less that 21 years of age when you begin driving and that gets changed when you are 21 to a licence that reads horizontally). I thought this was rubbish. Tempe is the closest party place to my home town and the place where all students go to have a really "good time". Since I turned 21 while I was in Europe I simply applied for my new licence online and it was waiting for me when I got back to America, but since the Arizona licence doesn't technically expire until you are 65 I thought that mandating that someone produce a non-necessary identification was going to end up getting the city sued (yes, this is America. We sue for EVERYTHING). My friend argued that clubs and bars were private institutions and that by protecting their assets in the further prevention of selling to minors by mandating a horizontal licence that they were completely within their legal rights. Our conversation continued like this for a half-hour or so and in the end we concluded that we missed each other's company. :-)

When I was in England I was constantly told that I was very bold and very blunt (haha). For people who know me (and are American), I would never be considered bold nor blunt in my own culture, in fact I'm often told I am too passive and gracious if anything. So being in England and being called blunt was a whole new experience for me, but perhaps I am a bit. I don't really understand those people who get offended when you challenge their thoughts, and I have high respect for people who can take critism, and because of this trait I am perhaps a bit more blunt than some people. In America we wouldn't call it blunt though... we would call it honesty. ;-)

Actually, I Prefer Green Grapes...

So I am finally back in America. And as I have slowly recovered from jet-lag and a slight sadness at the returned commonality of my accent I have started to digest my adventures and process them into lessons. And though I am sure this is not my most important lesson, it is the one I have noticed most upon my return. Living in Gilbert, Arizona, for me, is easy. Ok, so life isn't "easy" anywhere, and of course everywhere has its' struggles and difficulties, but, for me (I'm so "post-modern, right?) life in Gilbert is easy-er.

I know life here. I understand it. I know where I need to go to get things that I want/need (well, ususally, the ever-growing amoeba that is Phoenix does change every week) and I know how to get there. I understand people. I can predict suspicions, actions, thoughts and presuppositions. I know how to behave. And it all makes sense. But, Phoenix and I don't really make sense.

There are certain things that I like that life in Arizona just can't give. And though it would be easy to stay here with everyone I know and love, to do the expected thing, I think it would be my undoing. I love Gilbert, Arizona, and I fit in just a little too well for my own comfort.

A few days ago my dad and I were talking about preferences. If I could choose whatever I wanted to eat it would probably involve long noodle-type pasta, tomatoes, avocado, something spicy, and lots of garlic (no, this is not a recipe, its just my favorite flavors), and something fruity for dessert with good wine. If I could choose anything I wanted to read it would be something imaginative, funny and with a deeper metaphorical background. My sheets would always be Jersey-knit, chairs would always be the kind you sink into, water would always be purified, the weather would be just warm enough for a skirt, but cool enough for a light jacket, and all the Earth would be covered in soft things to walk on so that I could always have bare feet. But I've come to terms with few, if any, of my preferences ever being met and a given time. And I kinda like it that way. I kinda like not having everything I want most of the time. It makes those times when you do have the few things that you really like more significant.