Today felt like summer. Normally I'm too busy with work and school that I never have a summer day, but today I had one and I embraced it fully.
11- Woke up.
11:30- Ate honey nut cheerios with Sara, my roommate for the evening.
12- Watched the Cosby show.
12:30- Showered.
1:15- Had Starbucks/reading time.
1:45- Went to the dollar movie.
4- Went to Sycamore commons.
4:15- Fed the birds.
5:30- Went Target wandering (and didn't buy anything. Yay me!)
Sounds like a busy day and full of unaccomplished acts-- but that's not true! I set up an appointment for my car to get changed of its oil, did some math homework and only spent $2.71.
The best part is that it's Monday and it feels like Saturday.
Oh, why can't everyday be a summer day?
--Carmen
Monday, June 30, 2008
Saturday, June 28, 2008
Boy-Girl
I'm going to try to explain a situation without giving specific details because this particular story isn't mine to tell. However, I did play a roll in this story and will share the part I played-- maybe I'll even show a little depth into the person that is me.
Alright, this is the time that I can't give details but need you to understand the circumstances. Imagine any boy-girl situation, the type of situation that makes one vulnerable to the other. Actually, make it a potential boy-girl situation, the type of situation that makes one extremely vulnerable to the other.
Now, imagine being the "potential". Imagine being the one who stopped an important and prolonged conversation to become even more prolonged. I was the reason for the "potential". I happened to be at the location that this pair happened to be at and I became the reason why this situation never took place. Or, at least I was the device that brought this situation to a halt. I had no idea that this was the case until after one half of the boy-girl left and the other half explained what was supposed to have taken place if I were not there.
Guilt. A huge conversation was postponed because I was there. It's kind of daunting knowing that I caused a friend to continue to be ill at ease. I'm making my friend work up the courage once more be willingly vulnerable.
But then, I was reassured by said friend that he/she allowed me to be the reason he/she didn't have this particular conversation. That he/she wasn't very practiced at being at this end of the table. He/She was looking for reasons to put this off.
Anyway, my point, the depth that I said I would share: I don't know if I could do it. I don't know how two people can go from one type of relationship and go to a totally different one. I remember the word "pansy" was used when discussing the outcome of the evening but, honestly, I would not have been the one initiating the conversation these two people were to have. It makes me nervous just thinking about it. I would have been a pansy, too, and I probably would have continued to be a pansy. Everything would have been a reason not to have this talk. Everything would have been a sign: the fact that it rained, seeing people I knew, a crow, a child wearing a blue shirt, that I stubbed my toe, that I woke up on the right side of the bed instead of the left, that my next door neighbor said "Good morning" instead of "how are you". Everything.
I've never been in a situation when I've had to be very vulnerable.
And when it comes down to it, this person could be judged for pulling up a chair instead of leaving, for allowing me to be the distraction-- but, it takes balls to be that brave. To even consider allowing ones self to be open to be hurt and not knowing what the other person may say deserves a pat on the back.
So, Congratulations, boy-girl, may another opportunity come your way and may I not be there.
--Carmen
Alright, this is the time that I can't give details but need you to understand the circumstances. Imagine any boy-girl situation, the type of situation that makes one vulnerable to the other. Actually, make it a potential boy-girl situation, the type of situation that makes one extremely vulnerable to the other.
Now, imagine being the "potential". Imagine being the one who stopped an important and prolonged conversation to become even more prolonged. I was the reason for the "potential". I happened to be at the location that this pair happened to be at and I became the reason why this situation never took place. Or, at least I was the device that brought this situation to a halt. I had no idea that this was the case until after one half of the boy-girl left and the other half explained what was supposed to have taken place if I were not there.
Guilt. A huge conversation was postponed because I was there. It's kind of daunting knowing that I caused a friend to continue to be ill at ease. I'm making my friend work up the courage once more be willingly vulnerable.
But then, I was reassured by said friend that he/she allowed me to be the reason he/she didn't have this particular conversation. That he/she wasn't very practiced at being at this end of the table. He/She was looking for reasons to put this off.
Anyway, my point, the depth that I said I would share: I don't know if I could do it. I don't know how two people can go from one type of relationship and go to a totally different one. I remember the word "pansy" was used when discussing the outcome of the evening but, honestly, I would not have been the one initiating the conversation these two people were to have. It makes me nervous just thinking about it. I would have been a pansy, too, and I probably would have continued to be a pansy. Everything would have been a reason not to have this talk. Everything would have been a sign: the fact that it rained, seeing people I knew, a crow, a child wearing a blue shirt, that I stubbed my toe, that I woke up on the right side of the bed instead of the left, that my next door neighbor said "Good morning" instead of "how are you". Everything.
I've never been in a situation when I've had to be very vulnerable.
And when it comes down to it, this person could be judged for pulling up a chair instead of leaving, for allowing me to be the distraction-- but, it takes balls to be that brave. To even consider allowing ones self to be open to be hurt and not knowing what the other person may say deserves a pat on the back.
So, Congratulations, boy-girl, may another opportunity come your way and may I not be there.
--Carmen
Friday, June 27, 2008
I am not dead.
Blogger has not been apart of my life for quite some time and I should explain why.
Camp Quest aka Quest Ministries is my reason. I first attended this camp in '98 and now, in 2008, I am no longer a camper but have been promoted to "Camp Counselor". This is the greatest camp. It's true we don't have a zip line or a blob. There's only air conditioning in three cabins and the closest Starbucks is 15 miles away (I figured this out at 2am, in a cold sweat, with only Folgers to keep me company).
You meet the best people at this camp and, for those who are true to it, campers become counselors.
It is a Jesus camp and the best one around. Anyone, young or old, who need to get away and get immersed in God-- Camp Quest is the place to go. I love it. It's unfortunate it only comes around one time a year.
Camp has been over for about a week and I haven't felt the need to share much on Blogger-- but I have been persuaded because of this incident last night:
I'm taking a math class over the summer so that I can get my diploma. Last night I had a test in this very class and, too bad for me, I drank too much Gatorade and water so that by the time my test was over my bladder was about to explode. I hate using public bathrooms, but I would have regretted not using the bathroom.
The bathrooms at my school are nice. I was surprised.
I am about to exit the stall when I hear a girl's voice and then a male voice. Uh... um.... I was positive there was a triangle on the sign-- I always check-- was this a unisex bathroom? No... because the men's bathroom was right across the hall from this one. I'm bewildered, I don't know what to do.
There is a man in the woman's bathroom.
And the woman he entered with didn't have a problem with this. So then I start to think it was a woman with a very deep voice. And then I pray-- so hard-- that they weren't going into the bathroom to... not pee.
I flush just in case they did go in there... not to pee-- you know, to interrupt. To signal that they are not alone. I bust out of the stall and wash my hands; while doing so, in the reflection I see one set of feet, flip-flops, female. At the other end of the bathroom I see another set of feet, sneakers, baggy pants, not female.
I just can't get over it. It's just... strange.
I'm never using that bathroom again.
Camp Quest aka Quest Ministries is my reason. I first attended this camp in '98 and now, in 2008, I am no longer a camper but have been promoted to "Camp Counselor". This is the greatest camp. It's true we don't have a zip line or a blob. There's only air conditioning in three cabins and the closest Starbucks is 15 miles away (I figured this out at 2am, in a cold sweat, with only Folgers to keep me company).
You meet the best people at this camp and, for those who are true to it, campers become counselors.
It is a Jesus camp and the best one around. Anyone, young or old, who need to get away and get immersed in God-- Camp Quest is the place to go. I love it. It's unfortunate it only comes around one time a year.
Camp has been over for about a week and I haven't felt the need to share much on Blogger-- but I have been persuaded because of this incident last night:
I'm taking a math class over the summer so that I can get my diploma. Last night I had a test in this very class and, too bad for me, I drank too much Gatorade and water so that by the time my test was over my bladder was about to explode. I hate using public bathrooms, but I would have regretted not using the bathroom.
The bathrooms at my school are nice. I was surprised.
I am about to exit the stall when I hear a girl's voice and then a male voice. Uh... um.... I was positive there was a triangle on the sign-- I always check-- was this a unisex bathroom? No... because the men's bathroom was right across the hall from this one. I'm bewildered, I don't know what to do.
There is a man in the woman's bathroom.
And the woman he entered with didn't have a problem with this. So then I start to think it was a woman with a very deep voice. And then I pray-- so hard-- that they weren't going into the bathroom to... not pee.
I flush just in case they did go in there... not to pee-- you know, to interrupt. To signal that they are not alone. I bust out of the stall and wash my hands; while doing so, in the reflection I see one set of feet, flip-flops, female. At the other end of the bathroom I see another set of feet, sneakers, baggy pants, not female.
I just can't get over it. It's just... strange.
I'm never using that bathroom again.
Sunday, June 8, 2008
Saturday, June 7, 2008
Attack of the Anxiety
I feel late. That anxious and nervous feeling one gets when they over sleep, need to run out of the house, or call work to deliver the news; I have it. I'm not supposed to be anywhere until 5 and yet... I can't help but feel I should be freaking out and running around, frantic.
Kind of like when you put off that 10 page paper, for no particular reason other than not wanting to do it, and it's getting down to crunch time and yet, you still don't attack that paper. I have the miniature version of that. BUT the problem is that I have no ten page paper.
Am I getting anxiety attacks? I don't think so. There are a few people I need to call but... nothing to get nervous about. It's strange and I don't like it.
Carmen.
Kind of like when you put off that 10 page paper, for no particular reason other than not wanting to do it, and it's getting down to crunch time and yet, you still don't attack that paper. I have the miniature version of that. BUT the problem is that I have no ten page paper.
Am I getting anxiety attacks? I don't think so. There are a few people I need to call but... nothing to get nervous about. It's strange and I don't like it.
Carmen.
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
R.I.P.
I've lost the point.
Not "the point" meaning the main idea of the content, but the reason why I push the PUBLISH POST button. It may appear that I've lost all interest in blogger and from the readers standpoint, I would agree. But if only you could see how many drafts I've tucked away. On numerous occasions I've attempted to update my friend, the World Wide Web, about the ongoings of my life-- which, granted, isn't really worth getting updated on, but what are friends for?--and this isn't a rare thing. I used to do this all the time with ease. For some reason, though, the words that go onto this screen, I don't feel are worth the reading. I've lost the point.
In my latest saved draft I even talked about my lack of posting but even that didn't make the cut. My apology to the WWW was stored away. Why? I don't know.
This theme is the same with others. There are a few blogs I like to read and the blogs are from all different blogging sites (blogger, xanga, etc.). I refuse to comment not because I don't want to, but I feel that if what I have to share isn't relative, then what's the point? Who cares what I have to say about someone else's life? So these writers don't know that there is someone out there reading their thoughts (Kind of creepy, right? But doesn't it happen all the time? Someone comes across a blog and for some reason they keep reading and eventually become accustomed to checking, perhaps daily, on the life of this stranger. Well, at least this has happened to me. With a few people. All of these different blogs that I read all have different qualities that I admire; one is inspiring and always uplifting, another is Godly, one is baffling, and another I keep up with is just because he's an excellent writer.) and I feel strange if I, a total stranger, venture on to their site and say "hey, I wish you would keep writing. I like reading what you have to say."
These few Bloggers that I keep up with are all frequent posters except for one, which comes and goes, but they've recently stopped dead in their tracks. I might even say that there needs to be a RIP marker. The last post on one is April 21, another stopped the day after on the 22. Then May 19 and then the 29. What I'm trying to say is maybe I'm not the only one who has lost the point. Maybe everyone else is struggling to hit the button. Maybe the reason my point has fled is because it saw all the other points fleeing.
I wish mine would come back.
And just because I post this doesn't mean my point has returned. No, it just means I'm pretending that I have a point. Perhaps pretending will coax my point to return and bring some friends for those other Bloggers who seem to have lost theirs as well.
Not "the point" meaning the main idea of the content, but the reason why I push the PUBLISH POST button. It may appear that I've lost all interest in blogger and from the readers standpoint, I would agree. But if only you could see how many drafts I've tucked away. On numerous occasions I've attempted to update my friend, the World Wide Web, about the ongoings of my life-- which, granted, isn't really worth getting updated on, but what are friends for?--and this isn't a rare thing. I used to do this all the time with ease. For some reason, though, the words that go onto this screen, I don't feel are worth the reading. I've lost the point.
In my latest saved draft I even talked about my lack of posting but even that didn't make the cut. My apology to the WWW was stored away. Why? I don't know.
This theme is the same with others. There are a few blogs I like to read and the blogs are from all different blogging sites (blogger, xanga, etc.). I refuse to comment not because I don't want to, but I feel that if what I have to share isn't relative, then what's the point? Who cares what I have to say about someone else's life? So these writers don't know that there is someone out there reading their thoughts (Kind of creepy, right? But doesn't it happen all the time? Someone comes across a blog and for some reason they keep reading and eventually become accustomed to checking, perhaps daily, on the life of this stranger. Well, at least this has happened to me. With a few people. All of these different blogs that I read all have different qualities that I admire; one is inspiring and always uplifting, another is Godly, one is baffling, and another I keep up with is just because he's an excellent writer.) and I feel strange if I, a total stranger, venture on to their site and say "hey, I wish you would keep writing. I like reading what you have to say."
These few Bloggers that I keep up with are all frequent posters except for one, which comes and goes, but they've recently stopped dead in their tracks. I might even say that there needs to be a RIP marker. The last post on one is April 21, another stopped the day after on the 22. Then May 19 and then the 29. What I'm trying to say is maybe I'm not the only one who has lost the point. Maybe everyone else is struggling to hit the button. Maybe the reason my point has fled is because it saw all the other points fleeing.
I wish mine would come back.
And just because I post this doesn't mean my point has returned. No, it just means I'm pretending that I have a point. Perhaps pretending will coax my point to return and bring some friends for those other Bloggers who seem to have lost theirs as well.
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