Wow, this woman put to word the thoughts I’ve been having for years. Amen sister!
“Believing that true love waits, I make a commitment to God, myself, my family, my friends, my future mate and my future children to be sexually abstinent from this day until the day I enter a biblical marriage relationship. As well as abstaining from sexual thoughts, sexual touching, pornography, and actions that are known to lead to sexual arousal.”
At the age of 10, I took a pledge at my church alongside a group of other girls to remain a virgin until marriage. Yes, you read that right — I was 10 years old.
Let’s take a look at who I was as a 10-year-old: I was in fourth grade. I played with Barbie dolls and had tea parties with imaginary friends. I pretended I was a mermaid every time I took a bath. I still thought boys were icky and I had no idea I liked girls, too. I…
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Sure, I don’t have many followers. Sure, many won’t have noticed my lack of posting.
But for those who may have noticed, here is why.
July 1st my husband returned from deployment. All of my time has been getting to relearn and re-enjoy being with him.
August 8th my momma passed away. Today was her funeral. She was 43.
Time alone will give me the ability to think and reflect and process on perhaps the biggest physical and mental shock I’ll ever live through. Someday I hope to post something like what I’ve done with my dad’s death (Waiting to Die, not yet posted in entirety).
Lately I’ve been feeling like a Jill of all trades, yet a master of none.
When the track coaches recruited me to their team, I had no desire to go to college.
I wanted to move out of my parents house, work full time (somewhere, I didn’t know where) and be on my own. I was tired of the rules, the you-can’t-do’s, the parents, everything relating to home. So I was going to leave.
When I got offered a full-ride to a private college and participate in one of the best track programs in the state, I saw this as my chance, my getaway.
What I didn’t see was what I would do with a Bachelor’s degree. The only reasonable choice was to pick something I could maintain a high GPA in. That happened to be English with an emphasis in Creative Writing.
They say you can get anywhere with an English degree; what they don’t say is that anywhere means nowhere. No one wants someone who can write stories through their own personal lens. They want writers who have a knack for getting out there, interviewing people, working with multimedia productions. Tack on a minor in Journalism or Media or whatever and one is more set to land a job than just a “creative writer.”
I can paint and draw.
I can read and analyze.
I can write a story or a poem.
I can work hard, and work out harder.
I can love and laugh and live.
I can be a military wife.
I can cook.
I can be a college athlete.
I can be anything. . . except anything that would pay well and require my degree.
Why can’t it be possible to do everything? I know there are people out there whose jobs are what they enjoy the most, whatever that may be.
But what exactly is it that I enjoy?
I love all of it.
Can’t I just be paid to live and live well?
Soldiers have it rough. Most of the time their demons are the kind of dark, deep-seeded that can’t be fixed by a loving family and a steady job. They need help!
On a recent trip to Canada, I heard a startling fact on public radio:
349 American service members committed suicide in 2012 (to put that in perspective, that’s 54 more than were killed in Afghanistan that same year).
I was shocked. disheartened. and ashamed.
The broadcast went on to share the story of a 31-year-old Marine. He’d been in Afghanistan. He’d come home to four children and a wife who loved him.
And a personal hell of what he’d done and seen.
He was depressed. He reached out. He went to the VA. He asked for help. He was told there was a 3-week wait for inpatient care. By the time they were ready for him…
His widow said she’s angry she’s without him, but happy…
He’s. Finally. At. Peace.
I remember the Recruiters walking the halls of my high school. I remember…
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You know, inspiration to write can come from the strangest places.
For instance, running.
I was running today when some motivation hit me. Kind of literally, actually.
5 minutes into my 20 minute run, my phone had gone off more than usual. So, I put my left hand on the hand rail (right hand having my cell phone and music) to prep for a pause. The plan was to step with my left foot in time with the belt and step with the right onto the plastic side piece.
In between thinking about what I needed to do and doing it, something went waaaayy wrong.
My legs forgot how to be legs and I went down. Hard.
“F*ck!” poured out of my mouth (I had headphones in, so it could have been loud or an under-the-breath comment. . .no clue) and I frantically tried to pull my feet back under my body. Before I had even gotten myself back up I was looking around the room, simultaneously I hoping no one had seen so they wouldn’t question my state of “okay” while hoping someone had so they could laugh with me.
No one said a word or even looked my way. Fine, the rest of my 20 minutes was challenged by laughing at myself by myself.
As a thrower, I have sworn to never run. Our motto is “Why run when you can walk?” It’s more of a stereotype that we’ve simply accepted. Think about it: big, bulky, heavy young adults on a treadmill. I think we’re more afraid of breaking it if we touch it than the actual process of running.
The last 2 or 3 months I’ve been dusting off my big rear to look good for my husband upon his return home. Running and body weight exercises seemed like the best option to work off in-season bulk.
The first week, I hurt like hell. My wide birthing hips weren’t ready for it, and my knees weren’t nearly as strong as I thought. But I kept at it and soon my body got used to it. In fact, it was the best I had ever felt! Physically, mentally, everything. The biggest difference, though, was how much better my knees felt. Crazy, huh? Another thing changed that really caught my attention: I wanted to run. Every. Day.
Naturally, I did some research. Some things were just common sense, such as why my knees felt better: the ligaments, tendons, and muscles surrounding the joint were getting stronger. Duh.
But the following site helped out a little bit. Check it out, then go for a run! It’s amazing how much better you’ll feel. Although I highly suggest you at least start out on a treadmill rather than a paved road. Also, watch out for that moving belt.
Starting a blog with a poll is not a good idea.
You need people to vote, to get the votes you need followers, to get followers you have to post things they want to read.
Does it seem like people avoid you? Do you spend a lot of time searching in vain for someone who will hang out with you? Do you get ignored? You might be annoying.
I created a poll and posted it here, Facebook, and Twitter to clear up why someone may be annoying (What Annoys You? A Poll).
A little later…
Below is a poll with several answers to the question, “What makes a person annoying to you?”
The poll will be open for 12 hours, so please, go vote now!
After the 12 hours is up I will put up a post with the top 5 results, titled “How to Stop Being Annoying,” with tips and pointers on, well, how to stop annoying people, if you have a hunch you might be doing so.
Who wants to do this with me?! 😀
I saw Richard Wiseman’s book 59 Seconds mentioned on Boing Boing the other day and on a whim I started reading it. It reminded me of another book I’d enjoyed, Brain Rules. Both are what you might call “self-help” books based on legitimate, well-researched, scientific experiments. Real data. Plus, it has a great title! The hook in 59 seconds is that each chapter ends with “one minute advice” on how to improve your situation. Who doesn’t want to improve themselves in a minute? What can I say? I’m a sucker.
I’m only about halfway through so far but it starts out with what I thought was an interesting idea. Keep something like an Emergency Happiness Diary that you can use to periodically boost your happiness.
Several studies show that writing about traumatic or negative events — specifically writing where you can structure your thoughts into some type of narrative…
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