Musings

Thoughts on Boston

These are my thoughts on Boston. I don’t really have any recollection of what I was writing, and what I was trying to say while writing. Hopefully you will still understand.

Bad things happened in the world when I was a child. There were school shootings, robberies, murders, and acts of terrorism.

I could separate myself from these events, there was no need to care about war or evil when you are so little. I’m sure I was aware that there were “bad things” going on in my world. I was still warned that bad people lurked in dark corners, alleys, vacant parking lots. Bad things happened because bad people existed. Guns are bad. Knives are bad. Killing people is bad.

Now that I’m almost 20, I can’t begin to grasp this “bad” world that I live in. It’s no longer acceptable for me to go into my room and play with dolls, entering a fantasy world where there is peace for everyone. When I was little, this could be my escape. I could enter a different world and pretend that the things I didn’t want to exist, didn’t.

I can no longer do that. I can’t hide in my room pretending like these things don’t exist. They do, and how do I live knowing this?

After the Sandy Hook shooting, I thought of all the people I know who have kids in elementary schools. I thought of how the school district of my town cut down on security guards due to the budget. I thought of how my mom works as an aide in an elementary school, and how if there was a “Code Red” that wasn’t a drill, she would be responsible for protecting the children. I thought of what I am supposed to do when I have kids, and need to send them off the school. I don’t want them to go.

I don’t want to go anywhere. I want to stay inside, and pretend that the world is a place of peace. Where are my dolls when I need them?

I’ve been following the updates on the Boston explosion for days now. I don’t know what it is about this event that has made me so drained, so angered and sad. I don’t even know anyone who was at the marathon, not anyone who was hurt at least. Why should I care? I don’t live in Boston. I don’t know anyone there.

I care because I am no longer a little girl in her room. I go outside, to class, school, the store—I walk the streets alone. I am aware of the world. I am aware of these happenings. I can never forget.

I can see myself years later. I can see myself remembering that I was a young girl, too young, to witness 9/11.I will talk about Iraq, Libya, Egypt. I will talk about Sandy Hook. I will talk about Boston. What else will I talk about?

We can’t predict the future. But we are supposed to move on regardless. You live and you learn. I don’t want to live, at least not in a world like this. But what choice do I have? What choice do any of us have?

I listened to a talk show yesterday, my favorite talk show (Elvis Duran and the Morning Show), and Elvis talked about how even though it’s necessary to listen to every detail of an event like Boston’s, at some point you just need to get off the computer and pull yourself away. I can’t pull myself away.

I’m drawn to news like a moth to a light. When the light is cut off, I’m fluttering around unsure of what to do. It drives me crazy. I need that light. I need the news.

I get so angered when people sit and pick apart the media, telling me they are too involved. They are too involved, reporters are annoying, they don’t know anything, the news is bias, they cover what they want to cover (shut up shut up shut up shut up)

My professor told me I need to have a thick skin to be a reporter. I am getting there.

I used to play Call of Duty with my brother. I got pretty good at it. I liked using the machine guns that would shoot a lot of bullets in a second. I thought it was cool to scope out an enemy, the shoot them in the head from so many miles away. I could plant bombs, playing “capture the flag” in the meantime. I threw grenades hoping I would get more kills than my brother.

What the hell is wrong with me?

What’s wrong with the world we live in? Why do people target schools or malls or marathons? I will never know this answer.

Hash tags on Twitter suggest I #PrayforBoston. I don’t include this tag. I keep Boston and their people in my thoughts. The runners run through my minds, make laps in my brain. The eight-year-old is someone I can’t get out of my mind. I cried so hard when I read that article. I still cry. I will never stop crying. I don’t even know him.

I think my breaking point was this event. I just want so badly for me to walk the streets without fear. I want to walk down dark alleys in a short skirt and be safe. I want to send my kids off with no thoughts in the back of my mind (is this is the last time I will see them?!). I want to not be worried when my boyfriend walks at night with his laptop. I want to go to big parades, concerts, marathons, and be unafraid.

I have to have a thick skin. What if my writing is recognized by a big newspaper, and they send me off the a story like Boston? What if I am one of the reporters that writes a story that lets a parent know their son/daughter in Boston is okay? What if I honored Martin Richard with a moving story? What if I was at the scene, tweeting away, letting people know what was going on?

That’s what I want to do, to write and let people know what is going on. This girl is grown up. I still choose to go into my fantasy world where everyone is safe, but I am aware of the real world I live in. I want to become fearless, but I think that is something that doesn’t happen overnight. Maybe you’ll read my byline one day, and remember what I wrote here, on this day. I want to show people that we can get over our fears. That despite all the “bad things” that will not change, there are the “good things” to recognize. Good people reside in hospitals, fire stations, police stations, (and news rooms). Good things happen because good people exist. Helping hands are good. Hugs are good. Helping people is good.

Those Beautiful Numbers

It is finally here. The moment we, mainly me, have all been waiting for.

It’s taken quite some time, and now that it is here, I don’t know what to say.

But, I have to say something…

What is it that I am talking about?

Well, if you look over to your right, you will see something that says “Blog Stats.” Underneath that, you will see a five-digit number. That five-digit number means that I have finally met my goal of two-plus years: 10,000 hits.

Look at Zooey, even she couldn't control her excitement for the 10,000 hits!

Look at Zooey, even she couldn’t control her excitement for the 10,000 hits!

I don’t really know what made me want 10,000 as my goal. I guess it is just a good number to aim for. I think we like numbers that have zeros in them (as long as it isn’t zero by itself!) They just seem important.

I set these odd goals because I find joy out of every like, comment, question, or recognition that someone read my blog. The fact that people care enough about me, or what I write, to stop by my page means more to me than what I am actually writing.

I know it seems a little unnecessary to hope for a certain number of hits, or likes, or whatever you want to call it. I know I shouldn’t be hoping for a number on the right side of my page, but I can’t help it. Seeing the numbers go up, seeing the comments in my dashboard, and seeing all of the people truly caring about the words on this webpage is something that can’t be monitored without numbers.

So, this moment means a lot to me. It showed me that every time I posted my link to my page on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram; you name it, it was worth it.

Sometimes, because I want a lot of traffic on my page, I will try and go through my old posts and purge what seems outdated or boring. But, then I stop. I shouldn’t try and correct what is already “said and done.” I should move on. I should try and become more expressive with my writing and make meaning of what I am trying to say through my words.

I think that is why I look back at all those old posts because it shows how far I have come. I saw that I had things to write about, but it wasn’t what I wanted to write about. I wanted to write about loss, love, friendships, heartaches, funny moments, cats, coffee, and everything in between. I think that is one of the joys of writing. Anything is possible; you just need to right words.

This moment of recognition of making my goal of 10,000 hits is something that can’t be forgotten. As much as it seems like a stretch, it shows how much I have grown as a writer. Thanks to all my readers, you know I couldn’t have done it without you. Every writer needs an audience. I

I won’t stop writing. I look at Moore With Madi as an outlet to tell truth, share my stories, get people to laugh, and most of all, try to make it big with the written word.

Confessions of a Not-so-Teenager Twi-Hard

You know that one thing that you have in your life that you know is bad, but you love it anyway? Call it a guilty pleasure, if you must.

Well. I’m here to admit, no matter what I have said in the past, but I have a guilty pleasure, I know it’s bad, but I must come out with it: I’m a Twilight fan.

Let me defend my case here, before you decide you never want to read anything I write again.

I’m going to start by saying the movies have the worst acting, and the books are no literary works of genius. Yes, Edward sparkles and Bella is moody. Yes, their love story is stupid, predictable, and yet unrealistic. Everything about the movies, books, merchandise, you name it, it isn’t worth the time of day.

Bet your wondering why I just admitted to being a fan and then bashed it, right?

The reason I love Twilight is because it’s nostalgic. It reminds me of those painful tween-early teenager years where I didn’t fit in and all I wanted was a “true love.” Twilight stands for a time period of my life where I could read stupid novels and not be ridiculed, both publicly and privately. There was no worrying about whether reading a certain type of novel would damage your reputation, and you certainly didn’t need to hide the hard-cover editions and your poster of Taylor Lautner every time Jessica from gym class came over.

Me, 2010. Camping, somewhere north, maybe? In the height of my Twilight craze, here you can see me crouching as I hunt (I'm clearly a vampire).

Me, 2010. Camping, somewhere north, maybe? In the height of my Twilight craze, here you can see me crouching as I hunt (I’m clearly a vampire).

Truth is, why does anyone care how bad a novel is or a movie? No one is forcing you to watch it, or read it (unless they assign it for English 101). My point is, I’m tired of people looking at me like I’m crazy just because I like a corny romance that just so happens to include wolfish, shiny and/or pale faced boys. I’ve had people say, “You like Twilight??” Hey now, just because I enjoy The New Yorker, Earl Grey tea, and my go-to hairstyle is a coiled bun, doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy some poorly written vampire saga.

There are several confessions I’d like to make at this time. Yes, I had a poster of Taylor Lautner, shirtless (I had to take it down once I started dating Colin). Yes, I have all of the books, and I have read them cover-to-cover four times. And yes, I have Twi-hard merchandise, including a “Team Lautner” necklace and purse, and I have a tote bag with Bella and Edward on it.

Did you just lose respect for me? Well, you probably shouldn’t, in fact…you should gain some respect for me. The fact that I love one of the world’s most hated piece of entertainment and I’m not afraid to admit it is pretty gutsy.

I finished Breaking Dawn Part 2 (that’s the movie) and let me tell you it felt good. There were those obvious scenes that I rolled my eyes at, or mocked (Kristen Stewart’s angry voice and “Bella and Edward” having sex) but overall I was happy with how it ended. It’s a little bittersweet, having both the books be completed as well as the movies. Good news is, there is always Netflix or a rainy day for me to start it all over!

So, it’s okay to like things that people loathe. In fact, I think this is what makes us human. I stopped liking Twilight because it’s what everyone else was doing. I figured I couldn’t have people thinking badly of me, so I switched to more popular series like The Hunger Games or to authors like James Patterson. But, I’m a closet Twi-hard no longer. If this is what makes me, well, me, then so be it!

“Death is peaceful, life is harder,”Twilight 

Trying to Put on my Happy Face

A co-worker of mine explained to me the best way to understand why people are rude to those in “customer service” type jobs. She said that most of the time, a person doesn’t mean to be rude, but that throughout their day a serious of events that were probably unpleasant occurred and we just happened to be the ones that they chose to lash out on.

My belief is that they just aren’t nice people to begin with.

I can understand what she means though. Sometimes I get in bad moods and take it out on others. But, I certainly never have acted the way some people act in public. Frankly, it’s just embarrassing.

There is a difference between being rude to someone because they deserve it (come on, you know the people) and being rude to someone because they are doing their job. I’m 19, do you really think I’m the one that created all the rules, regulations, policies, etc.? I really don’t care about any of them, but it’s my job to make sure you, as a customer, visitor, patron, follow them.

So, arguing or yelling or belittling that person is simply a waste of time.

I think what bothers me the most is the lack of patience and understanding people have. No one wants to take the time to understand why things are the way they are. Companies have policies for a reason.

There have been numerous accounts of me explaining to someone one of our policies, and I say they have the option of talking to my supervisors, but instead they choose to yell at me or say they don’t have the time for that. But they did have the time to yell at me and make me feel bad for something I can’t control…

Sometimes, this is how I feel at work.

Sometimes, this is how I feel at work.

I’m an extremely personable person, and I always try my best to make each person that comes in to my work (I’m trying to not really mention my job so people don’t think I’m bad-mouthing where I work–I love where I work!) but sometimes it gets hard when people make me feel so bad. Being the bearer of bad news is never a fun thing, and although I have worked at this place for three years, it’s not getting any easier.

I love almost everyone that comes into my work. As a result of my friendliness, I’ve even made friendships. But, I’ve also been called stupid, and gotten comments like, “How long have you even worked here” and “Is there someone better to talk to?” I’ve also gotten yelled at over the phone, and in person (always a fun time).

My one co-worker today had one “customer” yell at her, including the 13-14 year old daughter with her, about something that she had no control over. After they finished being extremely rude, they just walked out and said they were never coming back. My co-worker just went on with the rest of her day. She also had another woman roll her eyes and talk back, something I’m not sure I would have been able to tolerate, but there my co-worker was, acting like nothing even happened (wish I had her willpower).

I think you could say that it takes practice to handle customer service jobs. I think it also takes understanding that there are people out there that really don’t care about your feelings, and they will do anything to either prove they are better than you, or prove that they are right. It’s a hard thing to cope with if you are a person who only tries to be nice to others. I wish I could advise these people, if you feel like you are in a bad mood, please do not go out in public.

The Beginning of a Somewhat Spring Break

There is so much I want to say in this post, but I fear two things; no one will bother reading it and, my hands will fall off due to how much typing was done.

I apologize for everyone who actually reads what I write. I told myself a resolution would be to write almost everyday, but we all can see how that went. That is why I do not believe in resolutions. They are half-hearted attempts at bettering your life. If you truly want to do something you don’t need a resolution, but I digress.

Zooey and I, pondering over an essay written by Jane Tompkins. It was a good discussion.

Zooey and I, pondering over an essay written by Jane Tompkins. It was a good discussion.

That being said, I have been away from blogging due to the immense amount of work. I know, I know, I said I wouldn’t use that as an excuse but here I am. The stress level has been at an ultimate high, what with my juggling of papers due every day and work bogging up my brain, I’m surprised I have any sanity left.

Good news is, I have spring break (even though it is the least bit spring-y outside) and I can relax and catch up on my work. No Florida trips for this chick, I think instead I will catch up on my P90x routines and read a good book (currently in the midst of How the French Invented Love and She Matters).

I’ll end this post here, since it’s simply the prelude to something better to read (maybe..)

Everything Passes With Time

It is a sad day in the Moore family. Unexpectedly, one of our guinea pigs, mine to be more specific, has passed away. It was the last of the “original four” guinea pigs we have had.

His name was Cheech. He was a skittish Abyssinian guinea pig that loved carrots and his building block hideout.

It’s a funny story how Cheech (and his brother) came into our house. My sisters had gotten an exciting gift of guinea pigs, probably around their eighth birthday. Since they are twins, that means double the pig and double the fun!

Their names were Chilli and Cha-Chi. I’m not sure where those names came about, but I had the feeling my parents were part of the persuasion.

Of course, pet store employees don’t have credentials, and it turns out Chilli was a boy, and Cha-Chi a girl. And we all know what happens when you mix a boy and a girl together. Clearly, there is no sex-ed for rodents.

Some time later, Cha-Chi gave birth to two adorable baby guinea pigs (both male, we checked). My brother and I were delighted because now we both could have our very own guinea pigs. So as you already know, Cheech was mine, and my brother named his Ozzy (again, do you think there was parental persuasion?).

We had some great times growing up with our guinea pigs. They were one happy, rolly-polly and fuzzy family. They loved to eat grass in the sun, and they weeped around in our hallway as they playfully chased each other. We called this “The Running of the Pigs.”

After the other three died, Cheech remained. He had some other friends of course, what, you thought we wouldn’t get more pigs? Although, the original four is where it all started.

As we get older, I think we fail to neglect childhood memories, which sometimes may be pets. As a child, having a small pet like a hamster or a fish is the greatest thing in the world. As we get older, we tend to lose the excitement we once felt. Although it is never truly lost, just dormant. Those memories are still there, and so is that excitement. The memories come out of dormancy once we realize that they are gone. Then all we want is to go back in time.

Of course, just because I was older and my priorities changed, my guinea pig was not left in the basement to starve. My mother took great care of all of our guinea pigs because she loved them, probably more than we loved them.

All my siblings, and I, have our memories now. The memories are more than just the pet, it is everything else that came with the pet. It’s having to go and clean them out on a hot summer’s day and making an event out of it. It’s cutting up vegetables in the kitchen for the guinea pigs to enjoy. It’s begging our mom to let us do the “Running of the Pigs,” and video taping our laughter. It’s carefully watching the mama guinea pig give birth, trying our hardest not to make a sound.

It’s our childhood, my childhood. It is the knowing that time has passed, and it is time that we will never get back. I just wish I had realized how important those memories are, because maybe I would have cherished them a little harder.

Rest easy, Cheech.

 

Being a Better “Me”

I do this every year. I claim that I will work out, and be healthier, but it never happens. Do we every truly commit and complete our resolutions? I know I never did. Sure, the month of January would go smoothly with me eating right, but I would soon give up and go back to my bad habits. I think this year it will be different. I decided I truly will be a healthier person. But let me blab to you about my life story, so you really will get the feel of why I want to make a change.

I had a good childhood. I was always the smallest kid in my class, and the most petite. I did have stick-like legs and arms, and rarely gained weight. My friends parents would call me a garbage disposal, and they would always plop extra helpings of food on my plate, trying to “fatten” me up, so to speak.

Then of course, puberty took its toll, and I realized I no longer had that awesome metabolism like I once did. Sure, I could still eat as much as I wanted of all the delicious foods my friends were wary about, but I had noticed I was developing a pudgy tummy. I still was the smallest of my friends though, so I never thought anything of my growing pouch of flubber.

I ran a lot my with my family when I was younger, and we always played a ton of sports that involved getting too sweaty. Both my mother and father were extremely fit back then, and are to this day, even if they are creeping into their mid 50’s. My mother is in better shape than I am, and my father has enough muscle that scared any of my potential boyfriends away.

I joined track in high school, and with all the working out I was actually hungrier than if I wouldn’t have been working out. The good thing was I got toned, and I felt a lot more in shape, even if I did have the appetite as a hungry-hungry-hippo.

Unfortunately, once high school ended, I certainly wasn’t driven towards exercising and eating healthy. I (embarrassingly) consumed too much fast food the year before freshman year. Obviously, this is a huge cause of weight gain, and add on the fact I wasn’t very active (I worked all summer) you can bet I packed on the freshman 15 before school had even started.

Thankfully, college changed my eating habits. I lost the 10-15 lbs just by cutting out fast food altogether (and swearing off the garbage). Since I commuted, I was forced to pack a healthy lunch, or I would be forced to spend $10 on a salad from my school’s pub.

Since I am still a commuter, I spend a good portion of my day running to and from either the train or my house. It takes up time that could be spent napping, relaxing, or you guessed it, exercising. My courses were hard freshman year because I had a lot of classes that had nothing to do with my major, so I often spent most of my free time keeping my grades up. I would go straight home and change for work, or sometimes, go straight from school to work. I always work until 9 p.m. so I don’t have much free time when I get back home. It’s quick eat dinner, get ready for tomorrow, and do my homework or study. As you may guess, exercising was not on my to-do list.

Now, this year, I had a hard time managing my time. I have another job working at my school in the marketing and communications

"Our greatest weakness lies in giving up. The most certain way to succeed is always to try just one more time. " Thomas A. Edision

“Our greatest weakness lies in giving up. The most certain way to succeed is always to try just one more time. ” Thomas A. Edision

department. It’s not a grueling, physical job, but I do have to be in the office for it to count as work. It takes up time that I would probably spend doing homework (or maybe exercising?) but I love the job, and I love the experience I am getting. So, it’s been hard to work in eating right and exercising, on top of going to school full-time, working two part time jobs, and having a social life.

Some people tell me, “I don’t know how you do it, working and going to school.” Sure I love the money, but to be honest, I love the jobs just as much. I always wondered how other people stay active even with a busy life. How do they get up at 4 a.m. and go for a 5 mile run before heading off onto their commute for work? How do they squeeze in working out at the gym after an eight hour day at the office? How do they find time to pack a healthy lunch, when it’s easier to just pick up lunch at convenient store?

Well, they love it. I’d also say motivation. If you think positively, you can pretty much do anything.  I also like to think you need a support group, an entourage, cheerleaders; you name it. Just someone who will be there for you no matter what.

One of my challenges has been finding my motivation. I am lucky to be surrounded by people who only want what is best for me. But, a flaw I have is comparing myself to all my close friends and family, which gives me nothing but doubt.

It’s hard having two extremely fit parents because it seems like everything they do works for them. It’s hard having a naturally in-shape boyfriend, and friends. I look at them and think, why can’t it be that simple?

Every time I have tried to get back into my healthy habits, I have been surrounded by discouragement. Not by everyone, just some people don’t understand. They see me eating carrot sticks and a yogurt and complain, “You don’t need to eat like that, here, have a cookie.” And so I eat that cookie, because they make me feel like I don’t need to eat the healthy food. People are always telling me, “Oh stop. You don’t need to cut back, you’re skinny” or “You’re tiny what are you talking about??”

No. I’m not tiny. I’m not just some insecure girl who wants to be like the girls she sees in magazines and movies. I just want to be a healthier person. It’s not weird to like yogurt, nuts, protein bars, salads, vegetables, or fruits. I sure do love my sweets, my carbs, and my sodium. But I can’t consume it all the time. That’s not me.

I’ve started this “New Madi” thing Monday. It’s only been about a week, but I’m keeping it up. I haven’t gone crazy and eaten a whole cake. I downloaded this app on my iPod called My Fitness Pal, which helps you keep track of exercising, diet, and calories.

It sounds like every other calorie counting app out there, but so far, I have nothing bad to say. When I look down at my iPod and it tells me I ate cookies and cake as my snacks, it’s a slap in the face. It’s right there in front of me, and it gives me the motivation to do something good for myself. So, when I look down and see all these healthy things I have eaten for the day, it makes me smile, and gives me the strength to keep going.

I’m trying to add more cardio, strength exercises, and yoga into my life. Hopefully I can work out at least three times a week for the rest of the semester. I hope to hear from others about their motivation for working out, or maybe if you have a story of how you changed and became healthier!

 

“You are never too old to set another goal or to dream a new dream.” C.S. Lewis

 

Going Haywire

Due to the fact that I am still on my winter break, I have much time at night that I like to spend watching movies or television shows. Normally I spend my time watching re-runs of Modern Family or The Big Bang Theory.

A few nights ago, I decided to broaden my horizons and watch a classic. I chose The Philadelphia Story. This movie stars the great Katharine Hepburn, Cary Grant, and James Stewart.

Liz Embrie (Hussey)

Liz Embrie (Hussey)

My favorite scene was towards the end where Hepburn’s character Tracy decides to break off her wedding with her fiancé after he thinks that she cheated on him with a reporter (Stewart’s character). Liz Imbrie, the photographer played by Ruth Hussey, then says something in this film that really stood out to me (if you are confused about the plot see here).

 

 

“We all go haywire at times, and sometimes, if we don’t maybe we ought to.”

I don’t know why it stood out to me, but then when I thought about what she was saying I could see that it really relates to previous happenings in my life.

I’d like to think that Liz was telling Tracy that sometimes we make mistakes. Sometimes we go a little crazy. But if we don’t mistakes how can we ever learn to be a better person? If we don’t freak out every now and then, our feelings will stay bottled up inside (until they eventually explode).

I like to think Liz was sending me a little message. Maybe I was supposed to watch that movie. Lately I’ve been thinking about how a friendship has probably been ruined because I told someone how I really felt about something they did. It’s a complicated situation and if you knew the full story, I’m sure you would be saying, “Madi, we all go haywire sometimes.”

Tracy learned a lot in the movie. She learned that sometimes the person you think you love, might actually not love you in the same way. She learned that sometimes you make mistakes, but in the end it’s okay because we all do at some point.

If you can’t admit your mistakes, you can never truly be a happy person. I’ve lived a life where I try to defend every statement I make so I can try to be right. It’s easy to win an argument, but it is harder to admit that you are the wrong one. I’m trying to be the better person in heated situations, and admit mistakes I have made. I only hope the people I surround myself with will do the same.

Tracy gets drunk for the second time in her life, right before her wedding day. A mistake, yes, but in the end it was a mistake worth making.

Tracy gets drunk for the second time in her life, right before her wedding day. A mistake, yes, but in the end it was a mistake worth making.

In the end, everything worked out for Tracy. She did end up marrying someone on the day of her scheduled ceremony (just not with the intended fiancé). I think everything worked out with her because she went with her gut. She got a little crazy and went with what she thought was right. I like to think that I’m doing the same thing, and maybe in the end everything will work out for me.

Thank You Bloggers

One of my very close friends, and fellow wordpresser (see her blog here http://thoughtfullywritten.wordpress.com ) went shopping today. She’s one of those friends that no matter what you are doing or what time of the day it is, you can always have a decent conversation with her. No matter how much time goes by where we don’t talk (we blame college) whenever we get back together it’s like nothing has changed.

Anyway, we both were discussing our writing with our blogs, and I think we both agreed that one of the most important part of having a blog is caring about other avid writers. It’s one thing to manage your own blog and write everything you are feeling, several times a week. It’s another to stumble upon other writers who share the same passion as you.

I know I devote a lot of my time trying to get more followers and other people to view my site, but I think I want to spend more time viewing other blogs. I think as a writer I need to learn from others as a part of my journey to (hopeful) success.

I’ve come across so many amazing bloggers on this site. It is truly a wonderful thing to realize how many other people are out there that either share a passion for writing, or something else, or both. I love coming across blogs where the person not only is amazing writer that I can learn from, but they also share a passion for something bigger. There are so many cooking blogs, photography blogs, music blogs, and personal blogs that I have found this past year. I really wish I could meet some of you, to just shake your hand and thank you for giving other bloggers like me inspiration and courage to keep going. My friends and family have backed me up with everything I do, but without the amazing people on WordPress, I probably would have quit two years ago. So thanks to every random person who has followed me, liked my post, or shared a comment. You’re part of the reason I keep on writing.

There is Only One “You”

Sometimes I wonder what I would define as friendship. I just look at what I value in all of my closest friends. A true friend is there for you no matter what happens. Every bump in the road, they are right there beside you. They don’t judge you for who you are, or who you are becoming.

Over time, we all will change, and it’s those true friends that will stand by you through these tough times. I know that through the end of college I will become a completely different person, and I hope that I still will share good relationships with the people that mean the most to me.

I’ve realized that close friends can even do things wrong. The smallest thing can upset you in the biggest way. But, if you truly care about a person, you will not throw away the relationship. You will only try that much harder to make it better.

I know that I have said things to my friends that they may have disagreed with, or even started a fight over. I can only hope that one day they will see I have meant no harm and only have tried to make myself a better friend. I’ve found that holding things inside only makes you an angry and bitter person. It doesn’t help the relationship, only hurts it.

But sometimes telling people how you really feel is equally as bad. Sometimes when you tell someone how you really feel, whether it be for something big or small, can cause more problems than good things.

With my new year’s resolution of caring about myself and my feelings, I think that I may be misunderstood by someone close to me. I only hope that one day they can see the reason for what I have said or done. Taking care of your feelings should come first, because there is only one “you.”