Moments to Restore your Faith

It’s been a tough year for the world at large, and at times it’s been hard to hold onto hope. But reading these stories, even after all of the tragedies, I am renewed in my belief that people are, for the most part, good. I teared up at the inspiring, real moments this year that show the true core of humanity and its goodness. If we can keep this hope in ourselves alive, then we will see many more miracles from our own kind in the future. 

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Let the World Spin

This past weekend was one for experimenting.

Smoke_by_PreciousGirl92

That’s right people, I tried marijuana. So now I’m going to explain exactly how it felt for me (as best as I can, ’cause I was, like high, ya know?).

Friday Night:

Four others and I trekked out to a big lawn on campus after an unsuccessful night partying and drinking. (I say unsuccessful because we weren’t getting super wasted or super hit on.) So, our one friend had . . . 4 grams I believe. We smoked 2. We used a bowl, and I actually lit it really well. (I’m getting the hang of it guys!) We were all freezing and we all got really giggly. I wasn’t super-duper high, but I was . . . good, to say the least. Slept like a frickin’ rock too.

Saturday Night:

Dressed up. Went out. Frustrations that will be saved for another post. Came back, not drunk and barely buzzed. So, we’re going to call him CT, asked me if I wanted to smoke (he was pretty tipsy). I reluctantly agreed. So him, me, and another girl went out and smoked. Bowl again. It worked a lot better. Dizzy, spin-y, flying high through nothing. Went inside, went in his room, smoked more with a vape. My hands were cold and I felt like my blood wasn’t circulating to my legs. I was quiet and cough-y and giggly. I couldn’t really think enough through the haze to speak. But yet, it was kind of a beautiful surrender. I was basically unable to do anything, express anything. I don’t remember everything perfectly. I know everything was shift-y and it was like the world spun around me. It was like everything was finally at peace.

Now, I am not meaning to glorify “drug” use with this. This is just one little girl’s experience with the world of pot, and it should be taken with a grain of salt. I don’t plan on becoming a pothead anytime soon (I’m too cheap for that shit), but I can see myself enjoying it from time to time. Who knows. It works a hell of a lot quicker and better than alcohol. Another bonus – I woke up feeling great today. Very unmotivated and sleepy, but great.

One revelation, though – the world may spin round and round, but it will always come back to what it was before.

 

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Singular Point of View

I know I’m happier when I’m single.

I feel free, I’m not always thinking about someone else, and I love to flirt. So maybe I’m happier because I’m really just selfish, who knows. But I did get to thinking the other day…

If I know I feel happier, lighter single (and many other girls do, too), then why am I always thinking about how to get a boyfriend still? (Alright, maybe not always, but when I go out and see a cute guy, yes.)

Let me explain this. I’ve been both taken and single. I am… content in a relationship, but I do feel like there is less of a weight on me and I have more freedom in my life when I’m single. I think it’s because I don’t fool myself (at least in my head) about how I’m going to marry every boyfriend I have. I know I haven’t met the guy I’m going to marry yet, and I never get that caught up in a relationship. So, so far no guy has been so special to me that I can feel ridiculously happy with him, and don’t mind my “restricted freedom.”

Why then, is it always about the guy when I go out? Why do I still latch onto whatever crush I get, even though I know the guy isn’t the one and that I probably could do better?

The answer may be simple: Women are still #2. We still grow up with the stories of Cinderella being taken away by Prince Charming, Snow White brought back to life by her knight in shining armor, Beauty ending up with the Beast despite her initial fear. All the girls on Jersey Shore talk about are boys, even the girls of Sex and the City (and I do love this show more than words can say) were always discussing the men in their lives. And to some extent, we women all know this is fact and accept it. It’s simply so hard to stop our worlds from, to some extent, revolving around men.

But why? Why is it that we still need them, even if we know we don’t? What is it that makes me go get drunk at bars, hoping every weekend to bump into the Prince Charming I know does not exist? Are we masochistic?

For, no matter how far we have come, we are still held back. Maybe it’s how our brains are wired differently, maybe it’s our culture, our society, maybe it’s the fact that we bear the children and thus have a greater affinity for family life.

Maybe we need to stop. No matter how hard it is. I’m going to a ridiculously overpriced college, on a scholarship, with two jobs, and I have a million other things to worry about that are far more important. So maybe we need to find a way to just make ourselves stop every time we start fantasizing, getting sad or lonely, worrying about every boy and every move he makes. Because a real man will let you know if he’s interested. And if there are no real men left, so what?

I know that I’ve been happier with other things I’ve done in my life besides getting a boyfriend. I know that I can be happier doing something else than I can be in a boy’s arms. I know life holds a lot more for me than an erratically beating heart (that probably only beats erratically for a month tops, anyways). When I finish writing an A+ paper, when I write for one of my blogs, when I’m laughing hard with good friends, when I finish a good workout, when I’m exploring the city, when I get something that I’ve worked hard for – I feel better after all these things than any man could ever make me feel.

And maybe it comes down to this: We get more out of life for the things we work for. Love, supposedly, is all fate-driven. So if you meet him, you do. We don’t get a husband any quicker from being a perfect lady or showing more cleavage or going to bars or making an online dating profile or any of the tactics girls try.

So let’s stop worrying. Let’s focus on ourselves, our lives. Because they can be whatever we make them to be. And if we make them beautiful, I bet we can be a lot happier than any man could ever make us.

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Settling

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Once, the choic…

Once, the choice seemed simple. No question of if, only who. When your time came to marry, you searched the available waters for the strongest swimmer and then you plunged in as if you had fallen, crying to be saved. He saved you or you sank: simple. But now the rules have changed. It’s free swim for everyone. No guards blowing whistles. It’s shameful to need a savior, but the water’s as deep as ever, and if you’re reckless you can drown.

Alix Kates Shulman, In Every Woman’s Life

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Start Again

blood

blood (Photo credit: bedrocan)

I would like to know when it all starts.

When life actually begins. When your breath catches from astonishment. When your eyes are wide with wonder. When your heart beats fast with blood. When everything starts moving again.

But maybe when the blood that goes to your heart is paused, it can never be started again. Because everyone has always told me, “It will get easier with time.” But in reality, the more time goes on, the harder it gets.

The harder it gets to look at pictures and know that no more will be taken. To watch my friends’ mothers get them ready for dances. To look at my father with a drink in his hand. To see a strange woman become the focal point of my “family.” To see the rest of my family slip away into next-to-nothing.

To see her face fading away. To forget the smell of her perfume, the sound of her voice. To go through holidays without that love.

To realize that there is no one left to count on.

Please, if there’s one thing that anyone ever learns from me, I hope it is to appreciate your mother. Take pictures, even if she won’t let you. Memorize every piece of her, the whole picture. Don’t let her fade away.

Because fathers try. Friends come and go. Lovers never matter. There’s no one that will always be connected to you – except your mother.

And when they are gone and their blood, that gave you life, stops, so does yours. I’ve stopped. My life has stopped. My heart doesn’t beat when I kiss a boy, when I see a flame. I can have crushes and be attracted to hundreds of boys, but none of them will ever make my heart jump. I can come to the city of my dreams, but it will never matter. My blood is as cold and frozen as the harshest winter.

My life has stopped. I can have a million dreams, but the possibility of them seems absurd, because no one will ever tell me that they can come true, and I will never believe anyone that does.

My life has stopped. No matter what I do, nothing will matter. No matter how high of grades I get, how many awards, jobs, anything, all of it means nothing, because no one will ever truly be proud of me.

I never understood how much I loved my mother until I listened to her heart beats slow down to nothing.

So when will life start again?

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Sans Hook Up

Last night was a Friday night. It doesn’t take rocket science to figure out what I was doing.

It was my friend’s birthday, and his guy friends had planned a huge night for him. He probably was close to having alcohol poisoning by the time we left the dorm. Nevertheless, he was having a great time and probably feeling overwhelmingly loved. I mean, how else could you feel when people had put up signs around the dorm about your birthday, and told everyone not to let you pay for one drink? So all us ladies put on our best looks and hopped on for the party. I did follow what I wrote about last – I did the makeup I wanted, wore the clothes I wanted, and I was feelin’ good.

The night was fun, not as fun as it could have been (our favorite bar was closed). But it was definitely a good night, not a bad one. And it’s surprising that I do think it was good.

I didn’t hook up with anyone. Usually this equals an unsuccessful night for me, but I’m just not worried about it anymore. I acted a little crazy, only spent $2, and had a nice time after smoking a cigar with some of the bros (one of which I have previously hooked up with, but that’s cool).

So what does this mean? Breakthrough?

Or am I still hung up on the guy that screwed me over, the one where I relationship was between one random hook up and a “thing.” And he gave me money for beer. And he was nice. And he tweeted something really odd that night. But what should I care?

I know I shouldn’t. And I tell myself I don’t. Because I know he’s already over it, and even if he isn’t, he’ll assume I am and then move on and not do anything about it. Because that’s how boys and girls are different.

Girls hold onto things much longer, and for much less reason. Why is it that we will contemplate and obsess over something that we know probably wouldn’t be forever anyways? Or even be that great? Or right?

So what should I care? Even if he did ever say he wanted me, wouldn’t the right thing be to say no? I need to hold onto my pride, have respect for myself as a woman… but temptation is so easy to give into.

And sometimes we just get lonely. Which is what holds us down in society still. We don’t need boys… but we need boys. We need someone. And at times, it seems like anyone will do.

I’ve lived through a lot. I can persevere. I can make it through any number of tough times. I’m a girl that’s grown up without a mother since age twelve.

But yet it’s so hard to get this boy out of my head. And before him, there were others. And I’m not one to always need a boyfriend. I have one for a bit, and when it’s over I usually am single for a year or so. I give myself recovery time.

But still, it would feel so nice to just be able to depend on someone for once.

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