Darn iPod is Hindering my Creative Output

Contrary to popular belief, I am not still reading The Catcher in the Rye. Finished that weeks ago. Right now I am reading The Flinch by Julien Smith (not to be confused with Julian Smith). It's an excellent book about the silly, nonfatal anxieties and fears we face in this world and how to overcome them. It's free on the kindle store; I suggest you download it immediately. And then, you know, read it.

I hate how I always seem to spend so much time on things I deem important, only to have it turn out to be a complete waste of time and sanity.

The Good and Bad of Words I Encountered on the Internet Today

This is supposed to be a somber post, but I am listening to this song. It is practically impossible to have any problems in the world whilst this song is bouncing through your head.

I was reading this helpful and humorous article about things that high school graduates should know when they go to college. It was great and all to see that lots of students become homesick and constipated and don't spend all their time at crazy parties, spending their time instead studying or navigating through awkward dimly lit gatherings with cheap drinks and failed conversation, but despite all this oddly encouraging information, I was greeted with negativity at the end. The comments were ridden with people accusing the government of keeping students from going to college or that any education past high school is useless or that we need an overhaul of the entire system of humanity, for lack of a better word. They were egged on by people from Germany and India and various other countries who flaunted their completely free education or condescendingly asked why we were not standing up to our beauracratic officials with our demands if we lived in such a "democratic" and "free" country.

I was upset, bothered, perhaps even furious. These people were blaming the people that they could have voted in or out of office for the apparent stupidity of higher education. They said that Marx was right and that now's the time to rebel and demand that every single soul and their vegetable garden be allowed to go to Harvard for free. They were saying that this entire generation is lazy and that college is just their idea of an expensive party. I found these comments petty, unknowledgeable, assuming, and hurtful. Yes, college is a lot, and yes, there are those who get out of high school and see it as their opportunity to live the good life free of charge.

But I know there are countless students who embrace college, hardships and all. I have friends who hold education and their future in the highest esteem. Kristian started looking at colleges when he was six. Preethi yearns for the knowledge that only a higher education can bring. Janelle has sacrificed so much so that she may be able to go to college and fulfill her dreams. There are so many good people that come out of college and make the world a better place for all of us, even the haters. Their flamey little fingers would have no computer to type nasty comments on if it weren't for intelligent people who went to colleges in our "fascist" country.

People bother me sometimes.

People also make me feel things. Today, with the unbeknownst help from a certain beautiful someone, I realized that I am full of sympathy and, at times, even empathy. But I never truly know how someone is feeling.

But that's the thing; can I ever truly know how someone else is feeling about something? No matter how similar the situation or the people or the life experiences are, there are always multiple factors differentiating people's feelings. It is my belief that no one, except the Savior, can ever fully know how someone else is feeling.

Thankfully, that's not necessary. Surely, it would be fantastic if their was someone else that instantly knew what we were talking about, what that sore spot in your back or head or heart feels like. But humans are beautiful creatures that have ears to listen with, hands to hold, shoulders to cry on, lips to keep shut until the time is right for them to speak. We all have hearts and brains and flesh. We have roots that connect us and can make us feel like a family, even when we're not. They can make us feel safer, even when we're not. They can make us feel grounded and steadfast and strong.

Even when we're not.

Introvert

I'm not antisocial. I adore being around people. I can't bear to sit alone at lunch or in the band hall, and at home, I follow my mother around just for the company. When I'm in an especially bad mood, I can't be in the house alone. Even if my family is going to talk to people in the ward, I will willingly go along, no matter how pissed off I am or how little I know the people.

I am not a social person, however. I make little effort to make friends whenever I move and just wait for people to approach me. I'm okay with not having any friends in my classes, cuz sometimes knowledge is enough (I know I sound like a freak there). I hate summer because I hardly ever see my friends, but it's not like I fight for the ability to do so. I am okay to just sit and not have anyone talk or listen to me while I watch clouds or read Great American Novels.

It seems odd that I can be so loud, crazy, transparent, and a (perhaps) good leader when I sometimes wish for a whole week on an island where I could sing and sunbathe and just not be around people. But I think that's what's interesting; being an introvert is NOT equivalent to being antisocial or quiet or timid (though I certainly feel like I am all three at times). There's nothing that says that a girl that is happiest by herself or with one or two people can't have a blast at Cavestock or want to spend every night with the best date group ever or become drum major so they can help and interact with a lot of people. There's nothing that says that besides the stereotypes and stigmas of the world, and who cares about that?

In other news, the Ollers are visiting, I'm getting my patriarchal blessing on Saturday, and I have the best little brother in the world. You all can be jealous. [check mine and Preethi's letter writing tumblr, Something Legendary (it's on the side), to see why]

Checkers and Chess

Today in church, we had a lesson from the stake YW presidency about keeping a record and how it's important to journal for ourselves and our posterity. Just now, I was reading The Catcher in the Rye and Holden finds out that his roommate is on a date with a girl he used to know. Holden gets really excited to find out that she's mentioned him and he starts telling this inconsiderate narcissist about this girl. He talks about her parents' divorce and how she was a ballet dancer who hated the heat because she thought it made her legs look fatter but practiced outside anyway because she loved to dance and how they would always play checkers and how she would just line up her kings in the back row, never using them again, because she liked how it looked. Holden then narrates that his roommate is shaving and doesn't seem to be listening to a word because, as Holden admits, "that kind of stuff doesn't interest most people."

I then thought of all the little things that probably only matter to me. I thought of Micaiah, who likes jalapeños on his pizza and rearranges the furniture in his room after a nightmare and enjoys playing chess and chasing his dog with a trombone.

I thought of Kristían, who loves linguistics as much as I do and snuck out of his house in the middle of the night with nothing more than a shaky plane to make it to Disney World and wants nothing more to be married in a church.

I remembered Maddie Love telling me she wasn't in love on a volleyball court far from home, and I remembered Taylor comparing the marching euphonium to the Gospel.

I saw Isaac compulsively sticking his hands into food and felt Ellie's extensive elephant collection and heard Abram singing "You Are My Sunshine."

I realized that I am already forgetting the things I love about the people I love and that I should be writing these things down. I need to copy down stories, conversations, encounters. I could be filling up notebooks, or even just posting them here or on SL. After all, if these are things others have no use for, who will help me remember them as the years go by? It's our own individual responsibility to keep track of our own stories, the things that matter to us and us alone.

Just realized: John+Nathan=Jonathan

Caitlin summarized state marching band camp today very well: "I met a lot of new friends, some who were quite attractive, some who were kind of attractive, and some who were not attractive at all, but were still very nice." Not gonna lie and say I wasn't imagining getting married to the drum major from Timpanogos who most certainly lives near my house and was a drummer so he feels uncomfortable teaching kids how to slide. However, the drum major from Timp View was also pretty attractive and seemed extremely nice. Who says I have to marry a drum major from my own school?

My brother left at lunch, saying it was the worst day of his life. However, he said he would give band another shot, since everyone was complaining about how much they disliked today, but also kept talking about how much they love band. Yay for enthusiastic people who can be pessimistic in order for my brother to fit in...? I just want him to be happy and to honestly enjoy band.

Band ate my entire day, so that's all, folks.

Obligatory Summer Post

I went ice skating last night. How's that for the beginning of summer for ya? I went to my cousin's senior night, the first I've ever been to, and it was a blast. I was a little boring near the end as I grew progressively more exhausted and she went up and down the giant blow up slide over and over. I also realized that I used to go to that exact rec center as a child and was overcome with pieced-together nostalgia. I jammed my pinkie, the little worm.

My brother is joining band! Looks like he's gonna be a sousaphone. I'm hoping and praying that people will be nice to him and that he'll pick up on everything quickly and that he will actually like it and stop kicking and screaming about it. I guess we'll see what happens at our 8+ hour camp tomorrow...

I think I enjoy people reading and liking my writing more than I actually like writing it. That sounds extremely... vain? I can't find the perfect word. But really, I hardly notice when I write. When I am writing something plain and ordinary, like a normal post or paper for school, I definitely don't pay attention to how the act of creating phrases and paragraphs makes me feel. But established and specific things, things I want to keep and think about and enjoy, like my chapbooks and most of my letters to Preethi and detailed Facebook posts, the words and ideas just come naturally. It took all of two milliseconds to think about the Tabernacle being a warm and happy place and connecting that to a teapot. Things like that just happen. When I write like that, words just somehow end up on the page or screen. I take a minute to look over it, and then I'm done. I didn't have to think or fight or sweat; it just works out. But when someone likes it, when someone reads it of their own free will or quotes it on their blog, I feel everything. I look back and think, "Yes, I actually wrote that. I spent time on it and rolled some ideas around and made my fingers sore. Those are my words, and somebody besides myself takes pleasure in them." That's what makes me realize I love writing.