shouts of joy

I've got this destination I'm suppose to reach (we all are trying to get there), but there are no directions. So I've listened to other people who seem like they've made it there or are further ahead then me. People run by every so often and I try to keep them in eyes view so I have some kind of guide. But lately, people have sped by and I've decided to pull over so I can find my own sense of direction and begin my trip. Last night a couple of girls pulled over, when they got close enough I recognized them as two of my dearest friends. They stayed for quite a while and were very encouraging. It was just the kind of revival I needed to keep trekking along. Before they left they wrote down a number and told me the person on the other end would LOVE to help me if I needed it. Right now the trek is nice, I'm not sure I want a second opinion, but I am slightly curious to know who will answer if I call and what they'll say.

There are hundreds of thousands of things I don't do... that I should. Returning a missed call, refusing when my plate is full, accepting conflict, and the list goes on... Last night was one of those times (one of the thousands). I don't generally go to concerts, because they're not relaxing for me. The rock and roll makes my ears ring and causes my anxious feelings to eat me alive. IF I go, (notice IF) you'll find me standing, most likely. Arms crossed, a slight tap of the foot and both eyes on the "young" crowd in front that jump in unison with their hands in the air. How silly they look! Out of control! And I leave. Last night was different. An awesome friend forced me to go... maybe not force, but against my minds will. I walked in (in an attempt to hide in the shadows) and we stood in front of the big speakers. I put my hand on my chest and felt the beat resonating inside me. That feeling inside my chest, exaggerating the beat of my heart, was the feeling...

I've never been a big fan of tug o' war. Surrounded by a bunch of people, everybody throwing around their best advice. Shoes stepping on shoes and then the rope goes up and the facilitator says "Go". Everyone starts pushing and shouting. Some shout, "1, 2, 3, PULL! 1, 2, 3, PULL!" At the same time others shout, "PULL... PULL... PULL!" And those who aren't as organized just yell and pull. I hate being in the middle of the chaos and the yelling, the rage and the forcefulness. I begin to feel out of control and so I pull until my hands are burning and the joints in my fingers are stiff, but sometimes that's not enough. Sometimes the rope still drags me forward and slides through my tight grasp. I'd like the yelling and sliding to stop. If I could just find a quiet, solid place to stand.

My stomach is knotted, my hands and knees shaking, fingers numb, and eyes piercing the rock as I carefully formulate my next move. It's crucial that every move is quickly followed by another skilled move. My eyes cannot be taken off the rock, my mind cannot be harassed with any another concerns or perhaps a fall of 8 or 9 feet could smash me against the brutal wall. I went climbing this weekend with three other friends. I had planned on going to church, as I had spent Sabbath morning curling my hair and picking out a dress with the proper accessories. (But I'm not good with plans, not sure why I even make them anymore...) I showed up at the Awakening, a service prior to church, but left after the first 20 minutes to run home, throw some food and climbing gear in a bag, to meet the others with only 15 minutes to spare. It was a fast escape with no time to look back. I climbed a lead climb for the first time this weekend. It was restoring. I was in charge . In charge of my self, ...

It's always like this: at age 8 we want to be 10 (to live a whole decade). At 10 we want to be 13 (finally a teen). At 13 we want to be 16 (become a licensed driver). At 16 we want to be 18 (entitled to be "legal"). At 18 we want to be 20 (not a teen anymore). At 20 we want to be... eventually graduated (maybe?). But as of 21, I've decided that I don't want to be... waiting for something big to happen, I'm not waiting for the next big year, the next decade, the next chapter. The days seem to fly by faster than I can count. I've stopped waiting for the next day, because there's enough that happens today and I don't have to wait. "Time, I used to be naive in your presence." A knowledgeable friend shared good advice with me today. "Don't let today end, Tina! You have a whole year of 21, live it up! Live every day this year like you did today. Live everyday as if it were the best first day to the best year ever!"

I went home to treat myself to an early birthday. All weekend long my brother asked me to jump with him on the trampoline and do my backflip, I learned last summer and hadn't done since. I'm too tired. I ate too much. It's too cold. It's too dark. I don't remember. On Sunday morning, after a lot of probing, I agreed to watch his new (side-flip 360 with a 180 twist...?) trick on the trampoline. As we walked out the door he encouraged me to try my backflip, "You don't forget how to do it, you just remember how to be scared." Then my mom explained to him that the older people get the less enthusiasm they have for those kinds of activities. But I'm not old Mom... I may be approaching my 21st year, but I can still do backflips!

Dear waves, I'm ready to embrace. Hit me hard. Harder. As hard as you can. I want to know you. I want to feel you. Thanks! P.S. Waves when you're done, tell the Sun to shine hard. I'd really like to meet him too! With open arms, Tina

The waves crash on the beach. Sometimes the crash is steady and never seem to stop, other times it's fairly irregular and the beach begins to prepare itself for the next set of crashes. Sometimes the waves crash hard and echo off the rocks, other times the waves are soft and playful. And sometimes the crashing doesn't only come from the raging sea but from the skies above and washes away the prints in the sand. The beach goes through so much, it never knows what to expect. And so I've built a seawall, but it's starting to crumble. Maybe it's time to let the walls fall and embrace the waves of trauma.

A few pictures that really inspire me... I want to spend a day with people who encourage me to be me. Find adventure wherever it may be hiding, even if I have to go to the end of the road. Laugh until it hurts. Reach as high as I can. Take turns playing follow the leader. Make new friends. After I've completed my list I'll take a break.

"We can't lose our heads!" Came the distressed statement from Ryan, an intelligent, reserved third grader after an intense game of dodgeball today. "And what does that mean?" I asked as everyone slumped back into their desks with tension still spewing. "We need to keep our heads on when we play, so we don't go loco! If we lose our heads we will all be loco!" The concern in his voice was immense. Oh boy! I feel like I've already lost my head... I'm loco! Maybe I asked the wrong question.

First day back to the books... I'm not sure if I really learn anything from school. I listen to my professors ramble and before they get too far my mind starts to wander. Today in SOCI204 Dr. Ockerman was explaining Karl Marx's understanding of the Social structure using a pyramid. The small portion at the top is the upper class men, the larger portion at the bottom is the lower class men, and the little section in between was the middle class men. But where the heck is the 'women' class? It got me thinking... really thinking... I thought about it all day in fact. Where do I belong in society? Women have never been handed their role in society. Woman had to fight for her small place in society that took decades to achieve and yet, it's still never been handed to her. Her identity is unknown to her in the large realms of mankind. If she's not a wife and mother, she must be an independent woman who cares more about her personal success than having a family. Maybe...