When I Grow Up {Girl Between the Lines}

I wanna be famous I wanna be a star I wanna be in movies!

I cannot believe I’m twenty. It is the most surreal thing – I pretty much went through a quarter life crisis this summer. I started to hyperventilate when I thought about the fact that my twenties is the time when I graduate college, start a career, meet “The One *insert eye roll here*,” start a family. Oh, I want to vomit. What is life.

Whenever I was a little kid, I thought the teenagers were so cool. They were tall, had gorgeous hair, big boobs, and all the boys loved them. Surely this was going to be my life. When I was fifteen, I was going to be an actress, starring in several musicals and I was going to be famous and on Broadway someday. 

Unfortunately, fifteen year old me was still only 5 foot, and I looked like I was younger than my age, and not a grown up. I had yet to star in a musical that wasn’t church-related. (Although at seventeen, I was a nun in our community theatre’s production of “Nunsense.” Ha. ha. ha.) I remember crying a lot because I was so awkward.

But surely when I was twenty, I was going to have life figured out. When I was fifteen, I was sure twenty year old me was already going to be in California, working on my career as a film actress, getting my degree at Pepperdine University. I would have a handsome boyfriend and we would be serious and hoping to get married someday soon. And maybe after that I would go to New York City and be on Broadway.

I had big dreams, but those dreams changed. I’m not in California, but that is still the dream, no longer because I want to be on film, but because that is where a lot of human trafficking goes on. Here I am, in Tennessee, working on two degrees, neither theatre related because I realized after one theatre class that that was no longer the dream. Here I am, throwing myself into my school work so that I can do more school so I can work in human anti – trafficking, something that I know beyond a shadow of a doubt God has called me to do. I still don’t look completely like a grown up, and I don’t even feel like one yet. I don’t even have everything figured out – five, ten, fifteen year old me would be so shocked. And I’m kind of shocked. I know that I have a lot more growing up to do. And I know I’ll never have everything figured out, even when I’m thirty.

One thing though, I absolutely love the life I am living right now.
Still working on the looking like a grown up thing though 😉
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Eat Your Pancakes {Girl Between the Lines}

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As I sat in my first class of the semester – a 400 level Victorian literature class, I tried to decipher whether or not the burning sensation in my stomach was from hunger (I just ate a bowl of cereal right before the class) or if it was the onset of an ulcer. I’ve never experienced an ulcer, but I’m certain if I am to get one, this is the semester for the painful atrocity to occur.
Even if I wasn’t taking 18 hours (2 higher level English classes, 2 300 level psychology classes, online statistics [insert look of despair] and speech), I would be stressed out by this one Victorian Literature class alone.

This semester seems like I am going to have to devote all of my time to reading and writing. Which, what would I expect? I’m a double major. It was my own choice to major in English.

When I told my Dad I have to take online statistics, he covered his face and let out a dramatic OH NO. You’re going to hate statistics. You hate math! And the fact I have to teach myself will make it even worse.

I am unbelievably stressed and I still have four more classes to attend over the next two days. I’m not the type of person to cry when I am stressed, but I am on the verge. So if I may turn into Waterworks Wendy this semester, and that’s okay.

My dad gave me some great advice though, and this time, I’m definitely going to heed it.

Eat your pancakes.

Eat your pancakes? What? Are they gluten-free? Do I get to add peanut butter? What if I don’t like  pancakes??? 

 

But it goes like this:

Say you have 20 pancakes you have to eat every single day. You get tired of pancakes, so you only eat ten, and then put them off until the next day. On the following day, you now have 30 pancakes. The 30 pancakes seem so daunting, that you just simply give up and put them off until the next day. Well then the next day instead of your normal 20 pancakes, you have 50 and you still have to eat all of them.

No one wants to eat 50 pancakes. Not even I, and I love pancakes.

But if you work at eating your 20 pancakes a day, 5 in the morning, 5 at lunch, 3 for an afternoon snack, 5 at dinner, and 2 for a midnight snack, you’re going to get your 20 pancakes a day eaten. You’ll be sick of pancakes, but you’ll get it done.

Likewise, when you (in this instance, me) have overwhelmed yourself (myself) with a ridiculous amount of classes and hard course work, the best thing to do is stay on top of things, and do the work every single day, even when it gets boring and I’m sick of it.

Either that or find a Time-Turner. 

 

(I found one on Ebay for 3.99. I’m buying myself a “good luck on the semester” present.)

 

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Shameles “first day of school outfit” selfie. I was really hoping the weather would be cold enough for this ensemble, and Mother Nature did not fail me: huge flakes of snow falling today!

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I Strive to Share Your Compassion {Girl Between The Lines}

It is a really weird feeling, being the older sister but looking up so much to your younger sister. I feel like I’m the one who should be passing down good solid advice on boys, friendships, and life. In all actuality, it is my sister who is the wiser one on the subject. She is the person who calls me out on choices that I make, and to be honest, sometimes I resent her for it. In my selfish assuredness, I know what I’m doing, and I feel like I don’t need to be told. 

 

But my sister isn’t afraid to be who she is, even when telling the truth to her older sister makes her mad, or she  has to make hard choices.

 

In all my life, I have never seen someone with a bigger heart full of compassion.

 

She thinks about things and people that have never even crossed my mind. She wants to bring cookies to her teachers, even the ones she doesn’t like. She is intentional about reaching out to those who are going through hard times. She loves without holding back. She loves those who have been her best friends for years, and she loves those who have hurt her. Her heart hurts for those who are hurting. Her heart sings for those who are going through good times.

 

Abigail displays the most selfless compassion out of anyone I’ve ever known. 

And I strive to share in her compassion.

 

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Having the Choice {Girl Between the Lines Linkup}

With the start of a New Year is the turn of a new leaf. It’s like a Super Monday and you can start your diet all over again (or not). I’m all the time wanting to change something about myself, but I never really make an effort to do so. 

In addition to blogging, I journal on my own. For me, it is a great way to sort out my thoughts and my prayer; a (sometimes painful) reflection of who I am. I recently got a new journal for my twentieth birthday, cause it was high time for something new. I was journaling last night as 2013 was coming to a close, but I didn’t have the strength to flip back to pages of the previous months. In those pages were one of my greatest adventures: working at a safehouse in the Dominican Republic. But also in those pages were a very angry girl. Anyone who would read my journal would think they had stolen the diary of a mad black woman whose emotions were out of control. In one entry I am happy, but in the next entry the pages are filled with hate and anger and tears.

Sad, but true.

As 2014 starts, I’m wanting to do two things differently, but it’s up to me. I have to choose to do things differently.

I don’t want to dwell in the past anymore. I do that far too often, and it is neither healthy nor beneficial. Memories are lovely for visiting, but I cannot expect the next chapter of life to continue after I’ve already turned the page. I want to look forward to the life ahead of me. I want to be present and available to what Christ has in store for me in my future. According to Rafiki, none of what happened in the past matters now, because it’s all in the past. I should probably listen to that freaky monkey.

Secondly, I don’t want to be an angry person anymore. I want to make the choice to let go of my anger, and a be a happier me. I’ve used apathy to cover up my anger, but apathy is not any better. I read in a book once that said, “the apathetic life is a dangerous life.” I don’t want a danerous life full of apathy. I want a life full of love and happiness. But I have to make that choice.

So here I am, cheers to 2014!

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10 Reasons I’m a Terrible English Major

1. Scansion. What. the heck. is scansion? I even had to google the word to make sure I spelled it right. The truth is folks, don’t ever ask me about scansion. If you do, this is my answer:

 

 So there’s that

2. The list of readings I hate:

  •  Poetry
  • Shakespeare
  • I just had to do two of these. Prose before hoes? I’m dying. Can’t. Even.
The two staples of English majorism. You pretty much have to love Shakespeare, and who are you if you don’t like poetry? I will admit, though, that since taking 20th Century Lit I have fallen in love with many of the poets of this time period.

3. I don’t read everything. I can’t admit this to too many professors, because they all already think I’m a horrible person for speaking my mind against Shakespeare. I had a professor say once that if you are an English major and you do not read all of your assigned readings, for your English classes and other classes, you are a disgrace.

4. Sometimes people talk about authors and poets that they love and I just nod and pretend along like I totally know what they’re talking about. They go on and on and I just stare into my coffee, hoping they don’t notice I have no idea who they are talking about.

 

5. I talk about drinking tea. But rarely do I drink tea. I’m so unrefined.

Yeah I guess I’m done. Reasons I’d be a terrible math major: clearly I can’t count.

 

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