Flaws and Quirks. Everyone has them, but because we live in such a judgemental world everyone tries to hide them and become "Plastic". I will though admit that I have done my fair share of plasticizing. I find it hard to embrace the things that make me unique and different. But at the same time, I realize that everyone has things that might be kind of weird because, after all, normal is simply the average of weird. Another thing that I have learned in all of the 16 years of my life is that, especially if you are me, sometimes the best way to handle something that makes you uncomfortable is to risk embarrassing yourself and just tell the truth. Here are my flaws and quirks.
-I have a stutter. It's just a little one, but I am constantly tripping over my words, and I do a lot of t-time or th-there or s-stop. It drives me nuts, but it's kind of a part of me.
-I daydream. Without warning. I constantly am missing assignments and important lessons in class because without realizing it I will daydream for 5-10 minutes. It can put me in a bit of a rough spot sometimes, but that is where a lot of my creativity comes from.
-I have an insatiable desire to wear clothes that my grandma wore when she was my age (You know, those homemade dresses and skirts that make everyone look like they have the same body type?) Well I am privileged enough to own a couple of said garments and I often wish that the fashion industry was not so advanced and that everyone still wore those clothes. :D
-My favorite music comes from the 90's. ABBA, Beach Boys, Taco etc. Hey! They're classics!
-I love teddy bears. I always have. There is something about a soft plush animal that you can squeeze to death that appeals to me.
-I have an unexplainable need to explain myself everytime I say something. This results in me talking...a lot.
-I have worn glasses since I was four and until grade 9 my mother helped me pick out my glasses. Mommy, I love you, but those round as a circle glasses pain me.
-I have a mental music video for almost every song on my i-pod because I can't just listen to music, I have to do something...So I choereograph.
Since I think you get the point I will wrap this up. In short, everyone has flaws and everyone is weird, but we should learn to embrace them. I wouldn't be myself if I didn't listen to ABBA or if I didn't stutter or daydream. Those are things that I have learned or have to learn to embrace. So next time you find yourself critisizing yourself, immediately think of how that fault has shaped you, and how it makes you special. :D
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Cupcakes For My Soul
I have decided that this coming week will be very stressful. Among other things I am performing a drama called "What A Character" which is actually a series of skits that my school drama class is putting on. I am definitely a drama queen and I love acting, but there is something about performances that make me just a little bit stressed. Our first of three performances was this morning and it went...okay. You can never predict how a drama will turn out. Sometimes people forget their lines, other times your props just won't cooperate and other times yet you stumble over your own feet, nearly causing a catastrophe (believe me, I speak from experience). Today's mistake involved a cupcake, a spotlight and one unsuspecting victim.(Okay, so she was totally expecting it...but it was still surprising).
One of my skits is called 'Cupcake For Your Soul'. I won't go into any plot details, but I will tell you that one part requires me to throw chocolate cupcakes across the stage and up a ladder to a young lady who does not want them. The first problem is the "across the stage" part. I have awful aim, so while attempting to throw cupcakes I managed to hit everything except the target. I hit the wall behind her, I threw one backstage and I think I even hit the wrong actor! But the one moment that I remember most clearly is when I was most into my cupcake throwing. I need you to imagine this entire sequence in slow motion though, because that is exactly how I saw it. So I reach onto the tray, without really looking and feel my fingernails dig into a cupcake, and by dig I mean literally. I glanced down and saw that my fingers were buried in chocolatey cakiness. Now this wouldnt' be that bad...IF the rest of the throw had gone smoothly, but NO. I watched almost in horror as my hand extended behind my head. For those of you who have never participated in the art of cupcake throwing, it is commonly practiced, and just plain curteous to throw your cupcakes underhanded. And here I was, my hand OVER my head. It's at this point in time when I realize that there is no going back and I cross my fingers and hope for the best. I feel my fingers dislodge from the misshapen cupcake and I watch in silent horror as the cupcake whizzes past the targets head, scarecly missing it, and with the speed of a thousand cats, continues on to the wall behind her. I see the cupcake squish against the wall and fall to the floor......And then it was finished. I ended the sequence with an out of character gasp and wiping my greasy fingers on my pants and continuing on.
The stupid thing about this was, that while I was beating myself up for that ridiculus overhand throw, no one else really noticed. I found myself looking around self conciously while everyone else was chuckling and having a good time. And, like always, it got me thinking and I realized this. While everyone else was having fun acting and being a part of something that brought joy to others, I was meekly peering around, worried that I might have made a fool of myself and that people might think less highly of me because of it. I missed out on a good time because I was a little too concerned about myself. I later realized that no one even noticed my overhand throw, and no one thought any differently of me at all. So my challenge to you is this: The next time you make a fool of yourself, don't get too caught up in it. Relax and think rationally, because in the whole scheme of things, a poor arm and a flapjack cupcake should really be something that you should be able to laugh about.
One of my skits is called 'Cupcake For Your Soul'. I won't go into any plot details, but I will tell you that one part requires me to throw chocolate cupcakes across the stage and up a ladder to a young lady who does not want them. The first problem is the "across the stage" part. I have awful aim, so while attempting to throw cupcakes I managed to hit everything except the target. I hit the wall behind her, I threw one backstage and I think I even hit the wrong actor! But the one moment that I remember most clearly is when I was most into my cupcake throwing. I need you to imagine this entire sequence in slow motion though, because that is exactly how I saw it. So I reach onto the tray, without really looking and feel my fingernails dig into a cupcake, and by dig I mean literally. I glanced down and saw that my fingers were buried in chocolatey cakiness. Now this wouldnt' be that bad...IF the rest of the throw had gone smoothly, but NO. I watched almost in horror as my hand extended behind my head. For those of you who have never participated in the art of cupcake throwing, it is commonly practiced, and just plain curteous to throw your cupcakes underhanded. And here I was, my hand OVER my head. It's at this point in time when I realize that there is no going back and I cross my fingers and hope for the best. I feel my fingers dislodge from the misshapen cupcake and I watch in silent horror as the cupcake whizzes past the targets head, scarecly missing it, and with the speed of a thousand cats, continues on to the wall behind her. I see the cupcake squish against the wall and fall to the floor......And then it was finished. I ended the sequence with an out of character gasp and wiping my greasy fingers on my pants and continuing on.
The stupid thing about this was, that while I was beating myself up for that ridiculus overhand throw, no one else really noticed. I found myself looking around self conciously while everyone else was chuckling and having a good time. And, like always, it got me thinking and I realized this. While everyone else was having fun acting and being a part of something that brought joy to others, I was meekly peering around, worried that I might have made a fool of myself and that people might think less highly of me because of it. I missed out on a good time because I was a little too concerned about myself. I later realized that no one even noticed my overhand throw, and no one thought any differently of me at all. So my challenge to you is this: The next time you make a fool of yourself, don't get too caught up in it. Relax and think rationally, because in the whole scheme of things, a poor arm and a flapjack cupcake should really be something that you should be able to laugh about.
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Being Boss
Every Tuesday after school I baby-sit for my neighbors kids. There's three of them. Today was a particularily nice Tuesday so I put them all in rubber boots and shipped them outside. They immediately gravitated towards this giant mud puddle in the middle of the yard. They were very careful not to splash and were terribly concerned about getting stuck in the mud. Needless to say, they very quickly stopped playing in the puddle. They decided to show me their new sandbox. Ever since I was little I have absolutely loved sandboxes so the sight of heaps and heaps of sand contained in a wooden box made me smile. I was suddenly quite excited to begin playing in the sand. But first they had to show me all of their creations which to me looked like a bunch of sporatically placed holes, but to them were volcanoes and campfires. They made sure that I would not wreck them. They took up most of the sandbox, but I managed to find a little corner. I began by packing sand into those little containers that are shaped like tractors and feet and stuff and made a whole city of shapes. I very quickly filled my alloted space so, like the kid I am, I decided to destroy them. I found much pleasure in squishing them and feeling the sand run between my fingers. I may be a kid at heart, but I am still a baby-sitter, so I naturally looked up to see what the kids were doing.
I discovered that they had organized a little construction site. It consisted of two kids digging holes, and one sitting in a toy car and chisling at a rock with an old screw. I decided that I would join in and picked up a tiny toy spade and began digging. As soon as they saw me digging it was almost as if the game had truly started. The little girl chirped, "Let's play work!" and then in her deepest manliest voice, "I'm the boss, get to work!" Her older brother quickly proceeded to tell her that he was actually the boss because he was bigger than her. The little girl reluctantly agreed and started to work. I smiled at their organization and continued to dig. At this point I had created a fairly deep hole and I could see the young girl constantly looking over at it. All of a sudden she was standing right over me and spoke using her big boss voice and said, "Keep digging, if you don't work right you will go to jail!" Now I have been baby-sitting these kids long enough to know that any game that involves a jail ALWAYS means that there will be tears and hitting and screaming. Since I wanted to avoid this at all costs I quickly started digging faster. The oldest boy, our boss, quickly let me and his sister know that HE was the boss. The little girl lowered her head and said, "Oh yeah" She had just been reminded that she was not in control of this game, she could just do as she was told. As the game continued she kept trying to be the boss and trying to be in control, but each time her brother reminded her that she was not the boss.
I can't help but put myself in the position of the little girl who kept wanting to be boss. I always find myself trying to control everything. I like to be the leader and I like to have things go my way. What I especially struggle with is letting God be my boss. I often find myself thinking, "God, I know you're in control and all, but I think it would be best if you give me this RIGHT now" or "God, I know you're the boss, but for tonight I am going to be my own boss and I am going to to everything my way." For a lot of people being your own boss is what seems right to you. I understand that, but for me I am a christian and I believe that God is my father and I believe that He always knows what's best for me. From experience I have learned that as soon as I try to take control, everything goes awry and everything falls apart. What I have also learned is that everytime I try to take control, God always gently reminds me that He is boss and He knows whats best because He is bigger than me. Just like the kids I baby-sit for.
Unfortunately I have an important meeting to attend (Yes, as a matter of fact a 16 year old CAN have an important meeting) So I must cut my thought life short, but I do hope this gives you something to think about. Let God be in control of your life...Or, in the famous words of Carrie Underwood, let Jesus take the wheel!
I discovered that they had organized a little construction site. It consisted of two kids digging holes, and one sitting in a toy car and chisling at a rock with an old screw. I decided that I would join in and picked up a tiny toy spade and began digging. As soon as they saw me digging it was almost as if the game had truly started. The little girl chirped, "Let's play work!" and then in her deepest manliest voice, "I'm the boss, get to work!" Her older brother quickly proceeded to tell her that he was actually the boss because he was bigger than her. The little girl reluctantly agreed and started to work. I smiled at their organization and continued to dig. At this point I had created a fairly deep hole and I could see the young girl constantly looking over at it. All of a sudden she was standing right over me and spoke using her big boss voice and said, "Keep digging, if you don't work right you will go to jail!" Now I have been baby-sitting these kids long enough to know that any game that involves a jail ALWAYS means that there will be tears and hitting and screaming. Since I wanted to avoid this at all costs I quickly started digging faster. The oldest boy, our boss, quickly let me and his sister know that HE was the boss. The little girl lowered her head and said, "Oh yeah" She had just been reminded that she was not in control of this game, she could just do as she was told. As the game continued she kept trying to be the boss and trying to be in control, but each time her brother reminded her that she was not the boss.
I can't help but put myself in the position of the little girl who kept wanting to be boss. I always find myself trying to control everything. I like to be the leader and I like to have things go my way. What I especially struggle with is letting God be my boss. I often find myself thinking, "God, I know you're in control and all, but I think it would be best if you give me this RIGHT now" or "God, I know you're the boss, but for tonight I am going to be my own boss and I am going to to everything my way." For a lot of people being your own boss is what seems right to you. I understand that, but for me I am a christian and I believe that God is my father and I believe that He always knows what's best for me. From experience I have learned that as soon as I try to take control, everything goes awry and everything falls apart. What I have also learned is that everytime I try to take control, God always gently reminds me that He is boss and He knows whats best because He is bigger than me. Just like the kids I baby-sit for.
Unfortunately I have an important meeting to attend (Yes, as a matter of fact a 16 year old CAN have an important meeting) So I must cut my thought life short, but I do hope this gives you something to think about. Let God be in control of your life...Or, in the famous words of Carrie Underwood, let Jesus take the wheel!
Sunday, March 7, 2010
Being A Rainbow
This afternoon I decided that I would trek to 'The City' and get some hardcore shopping done. I brought along a good friend. Let's call her Curly because of her beautiful long locks of curls. So anyways, after 'Curly' and I found some great buys at a dollar store we decided to walk the mall. Being the dorks that we are we trooped around the mall like a bunch of pre-teen girls shopping alone for the first time (I am still not over the fact that I can drive, even after 6 months of having my license).
We both have a rebellious streak to us, so we decided that we should definitely pierce our ears. Now we are not just talking the lobe piercing that everyone gets when they are 8, no, We decided to get those fancy cartiledge piercings that add (or take away) 5 years to ones ear. So I pretty much was about to ask if my friend and I could get our ears pierced when a little girl and her mom walked in and just because she could, this mom practically yelled across the store, "MY LITTLE GIRL WANTS HER EARS PIERCED". Curly and I sighed and said, "So do we". Because the boistrous mother managed to 'ask first' Curly and I kindly said we would wait, and began to browse the shop shortly after hearing the mother proudly picking out the most costly pair of earrings available. I discovered many adorable things that I have decided I will go back for at a later date, including many shades of nailpolish, a zebra striped umberella and hot dog shaped earrings. After 20 minutes or more of browsing we peeked around an earring rack to see what was taking the little girl so long to get her ears pierced, since normally it should only take 10 minutes or so. What we saw was a little scrunched up face leaning against her mother. I will admit that her face was fairly white, but I could tell that she was desperately trying to shed a tear. The concerned mother chatted on her cellphone at 100 words a minute, probably considering calling an ambulance for her precious daughter. Curly and I were not the only onlookers though. As luck would have it, a nurse was in the shop and she tried to give helpful hints that the mother refused to accept. At this point in time I was getting fairly impatient, as I just wanted to get my ear punched and go. Finally, after checking the time on my cell phone 10 times, the little girl slooooowly got out the chair and sloooowly put her shoes back on and her mom practically dragged her out of the store. Curly and I were incredibly greatful that the woman and her blonde little baby left and were ready to show the piercing lady how to really deal with pain. We quickly filled out one of those forms that say that we are responsible to take care or ears and can not hold the store liable if our ear falls off, blah, blah, blah, etc, etc, etc. I proudly flashed my drivers license and jumped up into the piercing stool, pointed to the cheapest stud and flashed my pearly whites. Luckily I have gotten my ears pierced many times and knew how much pain to expect. When the lady pierced my ear I was able to proudly say, "Well that wasn't that bad!" As I stood up quickly, full color in my cheeks, smirking. Yes I know, I am 7 or 8 years older than the little crying girl, but I still felt so terribly satisfied that I managed to 'act my age' and 'suck it up'. With my ear on fire I walked out of the store, head held high.
Since I am a big thinker, I of course thought about this experience on the drive home. I put myself in the position of the little girl getting her ears pierced and visualized how differently the situation would have been handled if my mother saw me about to faint. My mother probably would have dragged me outside of the store to a nearby bench, because she would have been very conscious of the two teenagers waiting to pierce there ears like a couple of recalcitrants. I than put myself in the place of the mother and decided that I would probably have tried to avoid embarassment by telling fish stories of my daughters past health problems, which would probably have included faintsoftenitis.
But I what I realized is that this world is full of SO many different personalities and each person handles lifes problems differently, and I believe it is what makes life so interesting. If the color of my personality is purple, than that mother would be a solid orange, and her daughter a deep yellow. Each of us handled the situation differently. I handled it by wishing that the child would do just as I would and grow up. But if everyone acted exactly like me and if the whole world was purple, than the world would lack variation. No one would listen, everyone would want to talk and no one would have to make friends or get to know one another. The world would be a monotone mess, and what makes this world so beautiful is the color. I love living amidst a rainbow of people, oranges and greens and reds and blues. I love how no shade is the same and each and every one is beautiful. So next time I see a loud mother, a weeping child or an angry business man I just have to remember that they have a color, and behind each color is a peron that makes this world a little bit less of a boring place.
We both have a rebellious streak to us, so we decided that we should definitely pierce our ears. Now we are not just talking the lobe piercing that everyone gets when they are 8, no, We decided to get those fancy cartiledge piercings that add (or take away) 5 years to ones ear. So I pretty much was about to ask if my friend and I could get our ears pierced when a little girl and her mom walked in and just because she could, this mom practically yelled across the store, "MY LITTLE GIRL WANTS HER EARS PIERCED". Curly and I sighed and said, "So do we". Because the boistrous mother managed to 'ask first' Curly and I kindly said we would wait, and began to browse the shop shortly after hearing the mother proudly picking out the most costly pair of earrings available. I discovered many adorable things that I have decided I will go back for at a later date, including many shades of nailpolish, a zebra striped umberella and hot dog shaped earrings. After 20 minutes or more of browsing we peeked around an earring rack to see what was taking the little girl so long to get her ears pierced, since normally it should only take 10 minutes or so. What we saw was a little scrunched up face leaning against her mother. I will admit that her face was fairly white, but I could tell that she was desperately trying to shed a tear. The concerned mother chatted on her cellphone at 100 words a minute, probably considering calling an ambulance for her precious daughter. Curly and I were not the only onlookers though. As luck would have it, a nurse was in the shop and she tried to give helpful hints that the mother refused to accept. At this point in time I was getting fairly impatient, as I just wanted to get my ear punched and go. Finally, after checking the time on my cell phone 10 times, the little girl slooooowly got out the chair and sloooowly put her shoes back on and her mom practically dragged her out of the store. Curly and I were incredibly greatful that the woman and her blonde little baby left and were ready to show the piercing lady how to really deal with pain. We quickly filled out one of those forms that say that we are responsible to take care or ears and can not hold the store liable if our ear falls off, blah, blah, blah, etc, etc, etc. I proudly flashed my drivers license and jumped up into the piercing stool, pointed to the cheapest stud and flashed my pearly whites. Luckily I have gotten my ears pierced many times and knew how much pain to expect. When the lady pierced my ear I was able to proudly say, "Well that wasn't that bad!" As I stood up quickly, full color in my cheeks, smirking. Yes I know, I am 7 or 8 years older than the little crying girl, but I still felt so terribly satisfied that I managed to 'act my age' and 'suck it up'. With my ear on fire I walked out of the store, head held high.
Since I am a big thinker, I of course thought about this experience on the drive home. I put myself in the position of the little girl getting her ears pierced and visualized how differently the situation would have been handled if my mother saw me about to faint. My mother probably would have dragged me outside of the store to a nearby bench, because she would have been very conscious of the two teenagers waiting to pierce there ears like a couple of recalcitrants. I than put myself in the place of the mother and decided that I would probably have tried to avoid embarassment by telling fish stories of my daughters past health problems, which would probably have included faintsoftenitis.
But I what I realized is that this world is full of SO many different personalities and each person handles lifes problems differently, and I believe it is what makes life so interesting. If the color of my personality is purple, than that mother would be a solid orange, and her daughter a deep yellow. Each of us handled the situation differently. I handled it by wishing that the child would do just as I would and grow up. But if everyone acted exactly like me and if the whole world was purple, than the world would lack variation. No one would listen, everyone would want to talk and no one would have to make friends or get to know one another. The world would be a monotone mess, and what makes this world so beautiful is the color. I love living amidst a rainbow of people, oranges and greens and reds and blues. I love how no shade is the same and each and every one is beautiful. So next time I see a loud mother, a weeping child or an angry business man I just have to remember that they have a color, and behind each color is a peron that makes this world a little bit less of a boring place.
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