darse cuenta

I just realized today that I am really happy. Maybe it's because the sun came out, but I think it was for a deeper reason. I've been trying really hard to have the right perspective since Black Monday (see May 23rd), and while I don't (and may never) have all the answers, I'm able to let go and appreciate what was. And I'm actually really optimistic for the future.

What I learned this past week: God never leaves you all alone.

Healing is a beautiful thing if you let it be.

gender neutral

So here is this article you should read.

If you don't want to read it, the main idea is that these two parents are raising their child without a gender. The baby does not have ambiguous genitalia in any way, but the parents are keeping it secret from other people in order to let the child decide what gender it wants to be.

Something about this seems terribly, terribly wrong.

I'm not one to call myself uber-conservative, but I feel like this parenting choice would even paint some liberals red--not that it's really political, but whatever...

It is evident that the child's parents love him/her, and they want to raise it without gender biases or stereotypes in order to foster independence. A lovely idea, but they just might end up creating gender confusion and alienate the child.

I believe gender is an essential characteristic to who we are as human beings. I'm not advocating that we live 1950's stereotypes. Many strong and favorable personality characteristics can belong to both men and women, and I don't think we should foster this extreme dichotomy between the two sexes in terms of personality and ability. But there is something to be said about knowing your gender and nurturing it into part of who you are. Not to mention, I feel like it's a bad science experiment to see if you can completely nurture a gender while ignoring nature's influence.

And won't this kid find out soon enough when he enters this thing called the world? Only time will tell...

22 the aftermath

Yesterday was actually greater than I thought it would be. I felt an outpouring of love from friends, family, strangers (that give me rides home--only in Provo), and especially God.

And I had a quiet feeling that everything is going to be okay even if it hurts for awhile. That was probably the best present.

I don't know what I'm doing, but here's to the first step of moving on--wherever that may be.

22

Today is my 22nd birthday. And I'm starting at rock bottom.

As you may have inferred from the girly-giddy posts a month ago, the blogging hiatus, and then yesterday, I was with an extraordinary person who ended up not thinking the same about me. It started fast, I gave my heart quickly, and then I was yanked out of my dreamy existence. Time is a really funny thing that cannot always be taken at face value. A lot of time does not always mean a lot, and a little time does not always mean a little. I say this because some of you may roll your eyes at the length of this relationship. It seems short, but it was a very special and personal time for me. That's the only way I can put it.

Before this, I had never had my heart broken. I had gotten rejected, but that's different. I like someone; he doesn't feel the same way; it sucks; I move on. (Remember my phases?) I learned now that this is more of an ego bruise than anything else. Rejection made me just want to eat junk food or run or listen to music or do anything to make me feel better, but with heartbreak there is no physical thing in the world that you can think of to make you feel better. I didn't want to sleep or eat or talk or anything... I just wanted to wake up from this obvious bad dream.

And one of the worst things in the world is looking at someone who once thought the world of you and having them look at you like you were a lamp.

Well the only thing about starting so low on my birthday is that it can only go up, right?

Happy Birthday to me.

one day i won't regret this

over. done. finished. gone.

All these words have a definite boundary and ending point. I think those words only work for the people on that side. The side that does all the talking. The side that has been planning this. The side holding the gun. The side that's sorry, but can't fix it. The side that isn't desperately hoping this is all a dream or parallel universe. The people on that side say these words, and it's over for them. They wake up the next morning and move on without the heavy burden of a broken, broken heart.

The people on the other side don't have the luxury of this clean breakaway. They are left alone, shocked into numbness and insomnia--trying to dam up their feelings until it causes them to shake and cry on the floor as they try to drown out the big gaping Why? that's pounding in their brains. And then there is that overwhelming responsibility of a million heart pieces that need to be put back together.

I was never very good with puzzles.

funk

Just watch me single handedly destroy one of the best things going in my life right now.

Just watch.

Once a freak-outer, always a freak-outer.

post script

Can I also just say that I'm ecstatic because now I don't look quite so much like a pathetic, does-nothing-with-her-life loser next to the boy with a 4.0 and perfect Spanish who gets a promotion at work for being an exemplary teacher and who is really all-out wonderful in every single way...