Okay, so the last post about this was a joke, hopefully that was pretty obvious. Now I'm going to talk about the same topic in a much more serious nature. Hopefully most of what I share will be applicable to both women AND men, but seeing as I am a woman, I may have more bias in that area. Overall, this is meant to help everyone though.
Let me start out by saying something you probably won't want to hear. It's not about finding the right person, or at least, it's not about the hunt. Stop looking. Stop trying to "get" a boyfriend (or girlfriend). I believe in accidentally falling in love, and by that I mean, it might seem like an accident to you, but really it's just as planned out as if you had done it yourself, except you're not the one doing the planning, it's God. Seriously, he's got the whole thing figured out, and honestly, he doesn't need your help. When he thinks you're ready to meet that special someone or fall in love, it will happen. Stop trying to make it happen. Song of Songs 3:5 says, "Do not arouse or awaken love until it so desires." I am personally quite guilty of this; I got my first "boyfriend" when I was eleven years old and have had numerous boyfriends ever since then. I'd like to think I've finally learned better, but I haven't. It's still hard for me. Once you get caught in a habit like that, it's hard to rid yourself of it. But there is, of course, hope. Because, most likely, there is someone out there for you and you don't have to look for them in order to find them. If it's meant to be, it will be.
That being said, there are, however, things you can do that will make you more attractive, in a good way, to the opposite sex. There is nothing inherently wrong with trying to make yourself look better. Guys, you don't really have to worry about this as much; my advice to you is to keep well-groomed because grubby men are attractive to very few women, whereas a man who knows how to take care of himself gives the impression of being respectable and responsible, and you want that. I also know that, while some people simply have different body types than others, there's nothing wrong with going to the gym once and a while and trying to eat right. It won't kill you; I promise. It certainly wouldn't hurt, and you don't have to be a bodybuilder to get women; trust me. Women aren't as visual as men; it's the taking care of yourself and not being lazy aspect that is more attractive. Don't worry about being "ugly;" I can almost guarantee that you're attractive to some women, including Mrs. Right. You are called to take care of your body (this goes for both men and women): 1 Corinthians 6: 19-20 says "Do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God? You are not your own; you were bought at a price. Therefore honor God with your body." Although these verses are in the context of talking about sexual immorality, they can be applied to many areas of our lives when it comes to taking care of ourselves and our bodies.
Women, I know the pressure there is to look good, even perfect. You need to remember that God made you a beautiful creature. Period. I think it's great that we have ways of making ourselves more beautiful; but I once heard the phrase, "Make up is to enhance beauty, not hide it." I'm sure this goes for clothing, hair products, jewelry, etc., as well. Just remember that next time you're getting ready in the morning. But there's nothing wrong with trying to draw the attention of a man (with limitations, of course.) In fact, in Ruth 3:3, Naomi instructs her daughter-in-law, Ruth, to “wash, put on perfume, and get dressed in your best clothes” in order to draw the attention of Boaz. Both Naomi and Ruth being godly women, and no implications that what they did was wrong, I see no reason why not to follow their example. It’s okay to look good!
I have a lot more to say, but I don’t want to leave you people hanging, so maybe I’ll just do this in a series, what do ya say? Here’s to part one of How to Get a Boyfriend/Girlfriend (Really)!
God bless
Thursday, May 26, 2011
Introvert
Before I say anything, I want to share with you a page that someone posted on my cousin's facebook wall. Please read it.
http://www.carlkingcreative.com/10-myths-about-introverts
I have been introverted, to some degree, my entire life. Shocker, right? Hardly. If I wasn't an introvert, would I sit on here and write blog posts all day? No, I would be out there talking to real people, saying everything as soon as the thoughts run through my head.
The hardest part about being an introvert is making friends. It's a lot longer, more difficult and pain-staking process for me than it is for most people. The extraverts see me as quiet and unapproachable and unlikeable and maybe even stupid. I'm sure having a speech impediment doesn't help me sound any smarter, but I was born with that too.
For the record, although introversion and shyness don't necessarily go hand in hand, I have both.
I always want to yell to people, "I actually DO want you to talk to me. I'm acting aloof because I'm shy and quiet. But I do have a personality that might be worth getting to know. And honestly, I want to get to know you. But you're bolder than me. The ball's in your court. Please." And then I feel sad and frustrated with myself. Time to learn how to send messages telepathically.
Reminds me of the dad in Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs, when he wore the monkey translator in order to tell his son how he felt and stuff. I tried to find a clip of that scene to show you people but I couldn't.
But seriously. I've been an outcast many, many times. At times I hated who I was, an introvert, because it put me in this position. And I can't help it any more than I can change my height or the rate my fingernails grow or the natural color of my hair. They're just built-in.
I tweeted on March 26 of this year, "I say about 10 words a day. I probably write about 19387489130. And I probably think a zillion times more words than that."
Well, that's pretty accurate.
~~~
However, this year I have finally started to discover ways in which being an introvert can be a very good thing!
1) People trust me more and open up to me.
2) The worthwhile friends actually take the time to get to know me.
3) Solitude is productive time, not at all torturous.
4) Fewer, but much deeper, friendships.
5) I think really deep thoughts without needing to talk through them.
6) Even though I'm not a good oral communicator, I'm a good writer.
Yep, it's not a very long list; it's a work in progress. But slowly, surely, I'm beginning to like and even feel comfortable with my quiet nature. Besides, as some of you may know, I do come out of my shell a lot once I feel at ease and comfortable with my surroundings and the people around me. It's just a matter of time.
Thanks for understanding. I apologize for not talking to you.
But for you extraverts out there, next time you meet an introvert, or even just see one, make the first move. You probably won't regret it. :)
God bless
http://www.carlkingcreative.com/10-myths-about-introverts
I have been introverted, to some degree, my entire life. Shocker, right? Hardly. If I wasn't an introvert, would I sit on here and write blog posts all day? No, I would be out there talking to real people, saying everything as soon as the thoughts run through my head.
The hardest part about being an introvert is making friends. It's a lot longer, more difficult and pain-staking process for me than it is for most people. The extraverts see me as quiet and unapproachable and unlikeable and maybe even stupid. I'm sure having a speech impediment doesn't help me sound any smarter, but I was born with that too.
For the record, although introversion and shyness don't necessarily go hand in hand, I have both.
I always want to yell to people, "I actually DO want you to talk to me. I'm acting aloof because I'm shy and quiet. But I do have a personality that might be worth getting to know. And honestly, I want to get to know you. But you're bolder than me. The ball's in your court. Please." And then I feel sad and frustrated with myself. Time to learn how to send messages telepathically.
Reminds me of the dad in Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs, when he wore the monkey translator in order to tell his son how he felt and stuff. I tried to find a clip of that scene to show you people but I couldn't.
But seriously. I've been an outcast many, many times. At times I hated who I was, an introvert, because it put me in this position. And I can't help it any more than I can change my height or the rate my fingernails grow or the natural color of my hair. They're just built-in.
I tweeted on March 26 of this year, "I say about 10 words a day. I probably write about 19387489130. And I probably think a zillion times more words than that."
Well, that's pretty accurate.
~~~
However, this year I have finally started to discover ways in which being an introvert can be a very good thing!
1) People trust me more and open up to me.
2) The worthwhile friends actually take the time to get to know me.
3) Solitude is productive time, not at all torturous.
4) Fewer, but much deeper, friendships.
5) I think really deep thoughts without needing to talk through them.
6) Even though I'm not a good oral communicator, I'm a good writer.
Yep, it's not a very long list; it's a work in progress. But slowly, surely, I'm beginning to like and even feel comfortable with my quiet nature. Besides, as some of you may know, I do come out of my shell a lot once I feel at ease and comfortable with my surroundings and the people around me. It's just a matter of time.
Thanks for understanding. I apologize for not talking to you.
But for you extraverts out there, next time you meet an introvert, or even just see one, make the first move. You probably won't regret it. :)
God bless
Monday, May 23, 2011
Likes
Long, long blog that I promised in my last post is coming soon. It's taking longer than I thought it would to write. Turns out I can talk about that topic for days and days and never run out of words.
For now, I have been inspired!
Oh yes. I was stumblingupon this website (http://www.stumbleupon.com/su/8DDbQR/www.austinkleon.com/2011/03/30/how-to-steal-like-an-artist-and-9-other-things-nobody-told-me) and I didn't read the whole thing, but I like the guy, and he said don't write about what you know, write about you like. He said when you write about what you know, you have stupid boring stories. Write about you like.
I like lots of things.
I like lots of people. I thought about making a list of the people I like, but that would be insane and impossible and just know that If I've met you, there's at least a 90% chance that I liked you. I may even like you if I've never met you, like that guy who wrote that thingy that I just put a link to.
What else does Maryann like?
flowers
babies
clothes
beauty
Jesus
blogging
email
photos of babies, including photos of myself as a baby
furniture stores
imagination
sunshine and rainbows
music
including piano and bassoon and singing and iTunes
snowflakes
my Bible
blankets
fire
grass
stars
pie
ice cream
pizza rolls
the ocean
children
blue
sparkly things, like lakes and diamonds
hot chocolate
dogs
things abnormally heavy, like pewter
dark chocolate
peppermint patties
playgrounds
tickling
landscapes
my sister
Relient K
letters (writing and receiving them)
trying on sunglasses
trying on formalwear
trying on wigs
getting my picture taken
being in real-life (as opposed to texting and facebook)
lightning bugs
owls and eagles
baptisms
weddings
lightning, rumbling thunder
laughing
going to the library
giggling (can be different than laughing)
other funny noises
funny faces
the smell of coffee
having someone invite me to lunch
Love
kindness
hot tubs
couches
stationary
hotels
champagne
ginger ale
red cream soda
cincinnati chili
Georgia
Galveston
sand
men
canoes
men who canoe
hair (mostly just other people's)
friendship
quiet families
happy families
Christmas
happy babies
watching movies
making things
knowing no one can hear me
the smell of pine
taking showers and baths
dancing (skill not required)
the sound of water
paychecks
good grades
candles
quotes
friendly people
smiles
tears
perfume
lotion
mascara
mirrors
parents that are in love
art around the house
music around the house
fragrance around the house
the hutch
feeling hardcore because I wash dishes by hand
bubbles
porches
guitars
my umbrella
a functional purse
feeling pretty
making long lists
a capella music
learning a new skill
teaching a new skill
getting something accomplished
things made out of wood
engagement rings
grandparents
"It's for you"
encouragement
confidentiality
praying
writing
dreaming (awake kind)
sleep (not awake kind)
year books
scrap books
3D stickers
regular stickers
hugs
Simon and Garfunkel
helping someone
receiving flowers
thinking
staring into space
romance
time
macaroni and cheese
painting things, like walls
memories
sharp pencils
museums
parks
taking walks
casual parties
compliments
Heaven
getting stories told to me
old friends
new friends
sunday comics
signatures
shaved legs
hope
warm rain
fountains
strawberries
fresh snow
straight teeth
meaning and depth
picture frames
Target
secret admirers
Forrest Gump
matches
relaxing after hard work
new things
ear phones
running
fireworks
light but affectionate physical contact
funny people
childhood
bouncy things
a slinky
my rubik's cube
birthdays
recycling
baby smell
things made out of glass
dressing up
green skittles
painted toenails
my truck, Lucie
my bassoon, Rose of Sharon
my childhood doll, Dolly
tall men
low voices
my old anatomy teacher
my other old teachers
hands
psychology
the Holy Spirit
things made out of bricks
talking to a friend
watching my tan get darker
watching my body get slimmer
watching my brother get better at the piano
cooking (skill not required)
italics
hearts
singing birds
words
blessings
donating things
good hair days
tennis balls
That's it. That's everything I like.
Well, I guess now I know what to write about. I suppose there are an awful lot more things that I like, but this list has been tiresome and it's past midnight so I'm going to go to sleep now. But not before I copy and paste the lyrics of "My Favorite Things":
Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens
Bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens
Brown paper packages tied up with strings
These are a few of my favorite things
Cream colored ponies and crisp apple streudels
Doorbells and sleigh bells and schnitzel with noodles
Wild geese that fly with the moon on their wings
These are a few of my favorite things
Girls in white dresses with blue satin sashes
Snowflakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes
Silver white winters that melt into springs
These are a few of my favorite things
When the dog bites
When the bee stings
When I'm feeling sad
I simply remember my favorite things
And then I don't feel so bad!
God bless
For now, I have been inspired!
Oh yes. I was stumblingupon this website (http://www.stumbleupon.com/su/8DDbQR/www.austinkleon.com/2011/03/30/how-to-steal-like-an-artist-and-9-other-things-nobody-told-me) and I didn't read the whole thing, but I like the guy, and he said don't write about what you know, write about you like. He said when you write about what you know, you have stupid boring stories. Write about you like.
I like lots of things.
I like lots of people. I thought about making a list of the people I like, but that would be insane and impossible and just know that If I've met you, there's at least a 90% chance that I liked you. I may even like you if I've never met you, like that guy who wrote that thingy that I just put a link to.
What else does Maryann like?
flowers
babies
clothes
beauty
Jesus
blogging
photos of babies, including photos of myself as a baby
furniture stores
imagination
sunshine and rainbows
music
including piano and bassoon and singing and iTunes
snowflakes
my Bible
blankets
fire
grass
stars
pie
ice cream
pizza rolls
the ocean
children
blue
sparkly things, like lakes and diamonds
hot chocolate
dogs
things abnormally heavy, like pewter
dark chocolate
peppermint patties
playgrounds
tickling
landscapes
my sister
Relient K
letters (writing and receiving them)
trying on sunglasses
trying on formalwear
trying on wigs
getting my picture taken
being in real-life (as opposed to texting and facebook)
lightning bugs
owls and eagles
baptisms
weddings
lightning, rumbling thunder
laughing
going to the library
giggling (can be different than laughing)
other funny noises
funny faces
the smell of coffee
having someone invite me to lunch
Love
kindness
hot tubs
couches
stationary
hotels
champagne
ginger ale
red cream soda
cincinnati chili
Georgia
Galveston
sand
men
canoes
men who canoe
hair (mostly just other people's)
friendship
quiet families
happy families
Christmas
happy babies
watching movies
making things
knowing no one can hear me
the smell of pine
taking showers and baths
dancing (skill not required)
the sound of water
paychecks
good grades
candles
quotes
friendly people
smiles
tears
perfume
lotion
mascara
mirrors
parents that are in love
art around the house
music around the house
fragrance around the house
the hutch
feeling hardcore because I wash dishes by hand
bubbles
porches
guitars
my umbrella
a functional purse
feeling pretty
making long lists
a capella music
learning a new skill
teaching a new skill
getting something accomplished
things made out of wood
engagement rings
grandparents
"It's for you"
encouragement
confidentiality
praying
writing
dreaming (awake kind)
sleep (not awake kind)
year books
scrap books
3D stickers
regular stickers
hugs
Simon and Garfunkel
helping someone
receiving flowers
thinking
staring into space
romance
time
macaroni and cheese
painting things, like walls
memories
sharp pencils
museums
parks
taking walks
casual parties
compliments
Heaven
getting stories told to me
old friends
new friends
sunday comics
signatures
shaved legs
hope
warm rain
fountains
strawberries
fresh snow
straight teeth
meaning and depth
picture frames
Target
secret admirers
Forrest Gump
matches
relaxing after hard work
new things
ear phones
running
fireworks
light but affectionate physical contact
funny people
childhood
bouncy things
a slinky
my rubik's cube
birthdays
recycling
baby smell
things made out of glass
dressing up
green skittles
painted toenails
my truck, Lucie
my bassoon, Rose of Sharon
my childhood doll, Dolly
tall men
low voices
my old anatomy teacher
my other old teachers
hands
psychology
the Holy Spirit
things made out of bricks
talking to a friend
watching my tan get darker
watching my body get slimmer
watching my brother get better at the piano
cooking (skill not required)
italics
hearts
singing birds
words
blessings
donating things
good hair days
tennis balls
That's it. That's everything I like.
Well, I guess now I know what to write about. I suppose there are an awful lot more things that I like, but this list has been tiresome and it's past midnight so I'm going to go to sleep now. But not before I copy and paste the lyrics of "My Favorite Things":
Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens
Bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens
Brown paper packages tied up with strings
These are a few of my favorite things
Cream colored ponies and crisp apple streudels
Doorbells and sleigh bells and schnitzel with noodles
Wild geese that fly with the moon on their wings
These are a few of my favorite things
Girls in white dresses with blue satin sashes
Snowflakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes
Silver white winters that melt into springs
These are a few of my favorite things
When the dog bites
When the bee stings
When I'm feeling sad
I simply remember my favorite things
And then I don't feel so bad!
God bless
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
How to Get a Boyfriend
I know what you're thinking, ladies. You're thinking, "Wow, that Maryann is so awesome, I wonder how she has so many boyfriends. I want to be just like her!" And it's okay to think this, because even though I probably have at least 12 times as many boyfriends as you, there's still hope for you! For my male readers, read on. I don't know why. But do it anyway. You're my faithful readers and I need you to support the women.
So buckle in and get ready to have men lined up at your door by tomorrow evening!
1) Getting a boyfriend might be intimidating, and you might be nervous, but the biggest ingredient to hooking up with guys is confidence. No man likes a sniveling baby-woman with no self-esteem. You need to prove that you know what you're doing and you're not afraid to show your stuff. The best way to prove you're confident and unafraid is to wear bold clothing. Want to wear your pants on your head? Brilliant.
Switch your left and right shoes? He won't think you're absent-minded; he can totally tell you did that on purpose. Put lipstick on your forehead? Nail polish on your ear lobes? Stop showering for three months? Shoes like these?:
All these things will prove to men that you're not afraid of what they think and they will be thoroughly impressed, even enamored.
2) The second step to getting men is to be beautiful. This may seem contradictory to the previous step, but really they go hand in hand. If you are confident, you are beautiful, and if you are beautiful, you are probably also feeling confident. I know an awful lot about makeup, but I found this video made by someone other than myself to be the most helpful for my morning routine:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PDjXDVKlcik
I also want you to know that, while tattoos can be painful and permanent, there's nothing wrong with drawing temporary tattoos on yourself for a look that you only want one night. Eyeliner works best for this, but you can use a variety of kinds of makeup to achieve this look. Here are some examples:
These were taken when I was approximately fourteen years old, so I've obviously been in the makeup business for a long time and am super experienced.
If you feel qualms about drawing on your skin, you can also draw with sharpie on some clear tape and simply stick it to your skin:
3) The third step to getting a boyfriend is taking initiative. Obviously no boy has the courage to ask you on a date, so that's probably why you haven't been on any. Next time you see an attractive male, take action! Be the first to approach them, and when you do, don't forget how confident and beautiful you are. Make sure they know it. Your first conversation will be most successful if it goes something like this:
"Hello attractive male! My name is Maryann and I am interested in you. As you can see, I am confident, beautiful, and willing to take initiative. How would you like to take me out to an expensive dinner tomorrow night?"
"Wow! My name is [male name] and I can see that you are beautiful, confident, and willing to take initiative. In exchange for your bold approach, I will woo you and give you any beautiful/expensive thing you could ever desire. Yes, dinner sounds wonderful tomorrow night."
Then you do things like bat your eyelashes and pucker your lips and stick out your chest and giggle at all of his words. It's fool-proof!
4) The next thing you need to do to is keep a keeper. Although you may love him, he might not love you, so you need to make sure he won't leave you. The best way to do this is to remember to compliment him. Say things like "You're nice" and "You're cute" and "You're tall" and "You're cool" and "You're friendly" and "You're funny." You know. Nice words. Then he will do what you want, including stay with you.
So there you go! Have fun getting a boyfriend! To conclude, I would like to share a video with you that I also find very helpful for getting a boyfriend:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=avbbcU4zcrs
*Obviously this post was of a mostly satirical nature, so I will posting another one soon that will be of a more serious nature on the same topic to clear up any actual misconceptions. But for now, I hope I made you laugh despite my general lack of wittiness.
God bless!
So buckle in and get ready to have men lined up at your door by tomorrow evening!
1) Getting a boyfriend might be intimidating, and you might be nervous, but the biggest ingredient to hooking up with guys is confidence. No man likes a sniveling baby-woman with no self-esteem. You need to prove that you know what you're doing and you're not afraid to show your stuff. The best way to prove you're confident and unafraid is to wear bold clothing. Want to wear your pants on your head? Brilliant.
Switch your left and right shoes? He won't think you're absent-minded; he can totally tell you did that on purpose. Put lipstick on your forehead? Nail polish on your ear lobes? Stop showering for three months? Shoes like these?:
All these things will prove to men that you're not afraid of what they think and they will be thoroughly impressed, even enamored.
2) The second step to getting men is to be beautiful. This may seem contradictory to the previous step, but really they go hand in hand. If you are confident, you are beautiful, and if you are beautiful, you are probably also feeling confident. I know an awful lot about makeup, but I found this video made by someone other than myself to be the most helpful for my morning routine:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PDjXDVKlcik
I also want you to know that, while tattoos can be painful and permanent, there's nothing wrong with drawing temporary tattoos on yourself for a look that you only want one night. Eyeliner works best for this, but you can use a variety of kinds of makeup to achieve this look. Here are some examples:
If you feel qualms about drawing on your skin, you can also draw with sharpie on some clear tape and simply stick it to your skin:
3) The third step to getting a boyfriend is taking initiative. Obviously no boy has the courage to ask you on a date, so that's probably why you haven't been on any. Next time you see an attractive male, take action! Be the first to approach them, and when you do, don't forget how confident and beautiful you are. Make sure they know it. Your first conversation will be most successful if it goes something like this:
"Hello attractive male! My name is Maryann and I am interested in you. As you can see, I am confident, beautiful, and willing to take initiative. How would you like to take me out to an expensive dinner tomorrow night?"
"Wow! My name is [male name] and I can see that you are beautiful, confident, and willing to take initiative. In exchange for your bold approach, I will woo you and give you any beautiful/expensive thing you could ever desire. Yes, dinner sounds wonderful tomorrow night."
Then you do things like bat your eyelashes and pucker your lips and stick out your chest and giggle at all of his words. It's fool-proof!
4) The next thing you need to do to is keep a keeper. Although you may love him, he might not love you, so you need to make sure he won't leave you. The best way to do this is to remember to compliment him. Say things like "You're nice" and "You're cute" and "You're tall" and "You're cool" and "You're friendly" and "You're funny." You know. Nice words. Then he will do what you want, including stay with you.
So there you go! Have fun getting a boyfriend! To conclude, I would like to share a video with you that I also find very helpful for getting a boyfriend:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=avbbcU4zcrs
*Obviously this post was of a mostly satirical nature, so I will posting another one soon that will be of a more serious nature on the same topic to clear up any actual misconceptions. But for now, I hope I made you laugh despite my general lack of wittiness.
God bless!
Friday, May 13, 2011
Age
Age is a curious thing, is it not? The concept has been running through my mind a lot lately, or at least, many fragments of thoughts about it have been. I will feebly try to organize these thoughts, because I don't know what else to write about.
Probably the biggest reason I have been thinking so much about age lately is because my nineteenth birthday was two days ago. Well, three days ago, since it is currently past midnight. Furthermore, my brother, Sam, had his eleventh birthday the day after mine, and Sarah's seventeenth birthday is this coming Monday. I wrote a letter on my birthday to someone very dear to me, and in it I wrote something to the effect of, "Today is my nineteenth birthday. I feel more like an adult than a child." Then I rambled about cherishing your youth and cliché junk like that. This person is a couple years younger than me, so I guess I decided to take advantage of my old age, wise counsel, sage advice...
Victor Hugo apparently said, "Forty is the old age of youth; fifty the youth of old age." I've been thinking about that. I also recently heard that although women have, on average, a longer lifespan than men, women, on average, begin to consider themselves "old" at the age of 29. For men, it is 58. (http://www.aolhealth.com/2011/03/28/men-feel-old-at-58-women-at-only-29/) I have been thinking about that as well.
Furthermore, I announced on my facebook the other day that I am 300 years old. It was a decision I made on a whim. I guess that would make my birthday May 11, 1711.
Probably the biggest reason I have been thinking so much about age lately is because my nineteenth birthday was two days ago. Well, three days ago, since it is currently past midnight. Furthermore, my brother, Sam, had his eleventh birthday the day after mine, and Sarah's seventeenth birthday is this coming Monday. I wrote a letter on my birthday to someone very dear to me, and in it I wrote something to the effect of, "Today is my nineteenth birthday. I feel more like an adult than a child." Then I rambled about cherishing your youth and cliché junk like that. This person is a couple years younger than me, so I guess I decided to take advantage of my old age, wise counsel, sage advice...
Victor Hugo apparently said, "Forty is the old age of youth; fifty the youth of old age." I've been thinking about that. I also recently heard that although women have, on average, a longer lifespan than men, women, on average, begin to consider themselves "old" at the age of 29. For men, it is 58. (http://www.aolhealth.com/2011/03/28/men-feel-old-at-58-women-at-only-29/) I have been thinking about that as well.
Furthermore, I announced on my facebook the other day that I am 300 years old. It was a decision I made on a whim. I guess that would make my birthday May 11, 1711.
Do you think anyone would notice if I used white-out on my birth certificate?
The reason for this decision is that although I rarely get sick and am quite healthy, I also often feel achey and weak and a lot of mysterious things happen to my body that I don't bother seeing a doctor or complaining about because they're not a big enough deal. But sometimes I just feel old. In my mind, too, sometimes I think I've aged more than some people two or three times my age. So I figure, is it better to be nineteen and feel like I'm fifty, or is it better to be three hundred and feel like I'm fifty? I choose the latter. If I was 300 years old, I bet I'd feel pretty awesome and young right now.
One of my favorite things about no longer being a child is the fact that age no matter makes as much of a difference. I can be friends with people significantly older than me or significantly younger than me. It really makes no difference. When I was little, I didn't know I could be friends with people who weren't my age. I'm glad I learned better.
I have also been thinking about the way I appear to others. Children usually guess that I am in my mid-twenties, but today a woman who must have been in her fifties at least, asked me whether I was in high school or middle school. I told her I was in college. Perhaps it's all relative.
I don't want to become old.
But I still take comfort in knowing that I will be in Heaven someday, no longer aging, no longer weary. Lasting forever... Much comfort from this.
God bless. I'll see you all next time, when we're all a little older.
The reason for this decision is that although I rarely get sick and am quite healthy, I also often feel achey and weak and a lot of mysterious things happen to my body that I don't bother seeing a doctor or complaining about because they're not a big enough deal. But sometimes I just feel old. In my mind, too, sometimes I think I've aged more than some people two or three times my age. So I figure, is it better to be nineteen and feel like I'm fifty, or is it better to be three hundred and feel like I'm fifty? I choose the latter. If I was 300 years old, I bet I'd feel pretty awesome and young right now.
One of my favorite things about no longer being a child is the fact that age no matter makes as much of a difference. I can be friends with people significantly older than me or significantly younger than me. It really makes no difference. When I was little, I didn't know I could be friends with people who weren't my age. I'm glad I learned better.
I have also been thinking about the way I appear to others. Children usually guess that I am in my mid-twenties, but today a woman who must have been in her fifties at least, asked me whether I was in high school or middle school. I told her I was in college. Perhaps it's all relative.
I don't want to become old.
But I still take comfort in knowing that I will be in Heaven someday, no longer aging, no longer weary. Lasting forever... Much comfort from this.
God bless. I'll see you all next time, when we're all a little older.
Monday, May 9, 2011
Park
Here's a sample of that "vague and poetic" prose I told you all about.
~~~
You step out of the car and breath in. Fresh air. Finally, some fresh air. Finally, some time. You breath out.
You walk toward the glittering pond and admire the sparkles that dance when tiny waves meet sunshine. Two ducks, a male and a female, cruise together side by side, peacefully, taking their time, quietly enjoying each other’s company. A soft breeze brushes your cheek, caressing your face. In solitude, you are not alone.
In a fit of spontaneity, you remove your shoes, sit on a large rock by the edge of the pond and dip your bare feet into the cool water. A relaxed exhale, not quite a sigh, and too happy to be a moan, escapes your throat. You splash a little and the clear sound of the water and the way you can feel the coolness rush over your foot makes you laugh quietly to yourself. You let your smile turn upward, toward the bright sun. Your head tilted back, you let your skin take in the warmth, and it spreads throughout you, warming you right down to your soul.
After a long and thoughtful sit, you get up, put your shoes back on, and begin to walk. You aren’t really paying attention to where you’re going, but you find yourself at the top of a hill and finally you look around. You’re suddenly in awe at the vastness of the world around you. You turn in a circle. In 360 degrees, you just saw countless buildings and even more multiple-shades-of-green treetops. Then you lift your head once more and the hugeness of the sky seems to engulf you. It is larger than life. How did you never fully notice this unfathomable expanse of blue before?
You sit in the soft glass and are suddenly overwhelmed by the beauty around you. With a choking gasp for air, you begin to sob. Yet you find that through your heavy tears, you are smiling bigger than you’ve smiled in a long time. Your heart lifts; it seems to be shedding the burdens that have been weighing you down. Like your tears, your problems fall to the welcoming earth, which graciously absorbs all you pour into it.
An eagle, seemingly weightless, glides through the sky without needing to flap its wings. You watch it in silence and are greatly comforted. You know that there is hope. You know that you’re not alone. You breath in fresh air. You lean back. You feel the sun, the breeze, the warmth. You smile.
You walk toward the glittering pond and admire the sparkles that dance when tiny waves meet sunshine. Two ducks, a male and a female, cruise together side by side, peacefully, taking their time, quietly enjoying each other’s company. A soft breeze brushes your cheek, caressing your face. In solitude, you are not alone.
In a fit of spontaneity, you remove your shoes, sit on a large rock by the edge of the pond and dip your bare feet into the cool water. A relaxed exhale, not quite a sigh, and too happy to be a moan, escapes your throat. You splash a little and the clear sound of the water and the way you can feel the coolness rush over your foot makes you laugh quietly to yourself. You let your smile turn upward, toward the bright sun. Your head tilted back, you let your skin take in the warmth, and it spreads throughout you, warming you right down to your soul.
After a long and thoughtful sit, you get up, put your shoes back on, and begin to walk. You aren’t really paying attention to where you’re going, but you find yourself at the top of a hill and finally you look around. You’re suddenly in awe at the vastness of the world around you. You turn in a circle. In 360 degrees, you just saw countless buildings and even more multiple-shades-of-green treetops. Then you lift your head once more and the hugeness of the sky seems to engulf you. It is larger than life. How did you never fully notice this unfathomable expanse of blue before?
You sit in the soft glass and are suddenly overwhelmed by the beauty around you. With a choking gasp for air, you begin to sob. Yet you find that through your heavy tears, you are smiling bigger than you’ve smiled in a long time. Your heart lifts; it seems to be shedding the burdens that have been weighing you down. Like your tears, your problems fall to the welcoming earth, which graciously absorbs all you pour into it.
An eagle, seemingly weightless, glides through the sky without needing to flap its wings. You watch it in silence and are greatly comforted. You know that there is hope. You know that you’re not alone. You breath in fresh air. You lean back. You feel the sun, the breeze, the warmth. You smile.
~~~
God bless
Saturday, May 7, 2011
One Sentence Story
How much can Maryann ramble?
One of my interests on stumbleupon is writing and literature, so the other day when I stumbled upon "exercises for fiction writers" (even though all my fiction writing is vague and poetic; most of what I write is nonfiction), I saw that the first prompt on the page was
"Write the first 250 words of a short story, but write them in ONE SENTENCE. Make sure that the sentence is grammatically correct and punctuated correctly. This exercise is intended to increase your powers in sentence writing."
My story is 301 words. It is, like all the rest of my fiction writing, vague and poetic, and not really a story, but I was surprised at how challenging it was to keep it all in one sentence. Admittedly, it is rather choppy at times, but those were the parts where I wished I could have simply put a period.
Here goes:
One bright and sunny day, I went for a walk in the park, by myself, and found it to be quite enjoyable, almost to the point of being giddy, especially at seeing all the flowers and insects and creatures that wandered around, and with each step I took, I felt more alive, until finally weariness caught up with me and I sat down on a bench to catch my breath, at which point I saw an absolutely adorable infant rabbit, which I believe is technically called a kitten or kit, and my heart skipped a beat as it stared at me with its huge, round brown eyes and I tried not to move a muscle so as not to scare it, but suddenly the children that were yelling and laughing in the distance frightened it and it bounded away as I silently said to goodbye to my little friend and leaned back on the bench for a bit longer, until I was ready to head back home, so I stood up and as I walked off the path and down the hill into the little woods by the creek that led to the neighborhood where I lived, I saw butterfly gathering pollen among the flowering weeds, and I paused to admire it as it fluttered around, and once again held quite still, and to my delight, this small and beautiful creature was much less timid than the rabbit, and it flew up to me and after fluttering around a moment, it landed on my arm as if to either investigate who I was or simply to take a breath of its own, and I smiled at it, but the moment soon passed and the two of us parted ways; me to my home, and it to it’s, wherever that may be.
One of my interests on stumbleupon is writing and literature, so the other day when I stumbled upon "exercises for fiction writers" (even though all my fiction writing is vague and poetic; most of what I write is nonfiction), I saw that the first prompt on the page was
"Write the first 250 words of a short story, but write them in ONE SENTENCE. Make sure that the sentence is grammatically correct and punctuated correctly. This exercise is intended to increase your powers in sentence writing."
My story is 301 words. It is, like all the rest of my fiction writing, vague and poetic, and not really a story, but I was surprised at how challenging it was to keep it all in one sentence. Admittedly, it is rather choppy at times, but those were the parts where I wished I could have simply put a period.
Here goes:
One bright and sunny day, I went for a walk in the park, by myself, and found it to be quite enjoyable, almost to the point of being giddy, especially at seeing all the flowers and insects and creatures that wandered around, and with each step I took, I felt more alive, until finally weariness caught up with me and I sat down on a bench to catch my breath, at which point I saw an absolutely adorable infant rabbit, which I believe is technically called a kitten or kit, and my heart skipped a beat as it stared at me with its huge, round brown eyes and I tried not to move a muscle so as not to scare it, but suddenly the children that were yelling and laughing in the distance frightened it and it bounded away as I silently said to goodbye to my little friend and leaned back on the bench for a bit longer, until I was ready to head back home, so I stood up and as I walked off the path and down the hill into the little woods by the creek that led to the neighborhood where I lived, I saw butterfly gathering pollen among the flowering weeds, and I paused to admire it as it fluttered around, and once again held quite still, and to my delight, this small and beautiful creature was much less timid than the rabbit, and it flew up to me and after fluttering around a moment, it landed on my arm as if to either investigate who I was or simply to take a breath of its own, and I smiled at it, but the moment soon passed and the two of us parted ways; me to my home, and it to it’s, wherever that may be.
Thursday, May 5, 2011
Moving out!
Today was the day I came home from my first year of college. It was an adventure.
No, really. It was. I will tell you all about it riiiiiight……Now.
I woke up and was extremely hot because the night before was freakishly cold for May, so I had a lot of blankets covering me, but today was normal May weather, and the sun was shining through my window right on me and I was burning up so I decided to lie in bed and tan so I kicked the blankets away and pulled up my shirt to expose my belly and let my body drink in the fresh vitamin D.
…I just realized that was an insane run-on sentence. Deal with it. I’m not fixing it.
I had some adventures running around trying to sell my books to a million different buyers as well. I saw a sketchy man with a booth set up who said he would pay cash for my books, more than the bookstore would, so I took him up on the offer and sold him my book after comparing prices with the bookstore. I felt super savvy.
What really made my day awesome, though, was I got to be a hero! I was hanging out with my friend Gavin because we figured we wouldn’t be seeing each other all summer and we’ve gotten to be really close friends recently, so we wanted to see each other one last time before the long summer. He showed me his room for the first time, but it was empty because he’d already started moving things out and putting them into storage. He lives in a faraway land so he has to put his belongings in storage since he can’t travel with them all. It was at this time that I noticed my belly was cramping and I started to feel like I was maybe going to die, so I went to the drinking fountain and took an ibuprofen.
He probably thinks I’m a druggie.
After awkwardly standing in Gavin’s room for a while, he decided it was time for him to leave so he walked me to the door of his building and we said our goodbyes. So we hugged and all that, and I told him he was one of my best friends (sentimental things like that are a thousand times harder for me to say when I’m fully awake than when I’m half-asleep. When it’s really late at night, I say things like that all the time, but never in the day. So it was hard, but I really wanted to say it, because I really meant it and felt he would benefit from hearing it.) And then he told me I was his best friend, like actual best, best friend, and I felt very special. But I have never been one to have a very best friend, the same way I don’t have a “favorite” of anything like colors or movies or songs, so I didn’t tell him that he was my absolute best, best friend. It would have been a lie. But he is definitely one of my best friends. I am announcing it to the world now that Gavin is one of my best friends and that he is very special to me. In fact, I’ve noticed that I’m almost never not smiling when I’m with him.
Now here’s where it gets good. At least, it was adventuresome for me and my typically mundane life.
So I walked away and was praying for him as I walked and the grass was nice to walk on and the weather was absolutely beautiful. I got back to my room and continued to pack. I remember I was throwing all my shoes into a big bag when I got a phone call. It was Gavin.
“Hello? :D”
“Hey, I’m h jvje fjseh n seiojef w”
“Um. What?”
“My taxi isn’t here yet and my bus leaves at 2:10..”
“You need a ride? I’ll be right there!”
“Uh, okay, I’m in front of [the ice cream shop].”
“Kseeyousoon!”
To clarify, his means of transportation to this faraway place where he lives is a greyhound bus, and to get to the greyhound bus station which is located downtown (our school is in a suburb of a big city), he has to take a taxi. And his taxi wasn’t showing up.
The time was 1:45. I picked up my keys, and literally sprinted out to my truck.
Thanking Jesus for the green light, I pulled up in front of [the ice cream shop] and he threw his things in the back of my truck, got in the passenger seat, and off we went, speeding toward the center of town.
He kept telling me how grateful he was and stuff. I felt a little like the hero of the day, because honestly, if I hadn’t done that for him, he would be way too late to get to the greyhound station in time, would have missed the bus and it would have been a huge mess. Who knows when he would have been able to catch another bus? I’m sure you understand the importance of him getting to the bus on time, and the fact that if I hadn’t picked him up, he never would have made it.
However, how could he call me with a problem like that and I turn him down? What a horrible friend I would be if I did not bother to take action when I was most certainly fully capable of doing so! So I put my whole heart, soul, and might into helping this dear friend of mine. After all, how could I not?
When I parked, he hugged me goodbye (again) and got his stuff out of the back of my truck, crossed the street, and I never saw him again.
I guess “I never saw him again” is pretty a melodramatic statement because that was, of course, only earlier today. But still.
I will miss Gavin a lot these next 4 months. I will miss his punny jokes that he makes up in the blink of an eye out of pure wittiness. I will miss his handsome face and dark eyes. I will miss his absolutely beautiful, ringing laughter. I will miss his hugs. I will miss how much he cares about me, and I will miss caring about him. I will miss his thoughtfulness; his contemplativeness. But we’ve agreed to keep in touch.
The problem with our society is that it has a very limited understanding of love. Everyone assumes that the word loves implies romantic feeling, but there is so, so, so much more to it than that. So when I say I love Gavin, I don’t mean I have a crush on him or anything dumb like that. I just mean I care about him incredibly deeply, and that he is very special to me, that I am willing to sacrifice almost anything for him. And so I would like to announce to the world not only that Gavin is one of my best friends, but that I love him. A lot.
Random thought because this is how my brain is treating me today: Wouldn’t it be cool if, instead of water bubbling up from the earth like a fresh mountain spring, sunshine bubbled up from the earth? Perhaps then, on dreary, rainy days, we could look up to the mountains and see a sunbeam shining down in the middle of the rain. Maybe then there would be rainbows in the middle of a storm!!
So.
I finally finished packing and started loading up my truck with my belongings. My parents showed up, and my brother, Sam, came too, which was a nice surprise. My brother will be 11 years old a week from today. We finished loading up the truck and the van that my parents drove and I turned in my key and that was that. I am going to miss my room a lot. I just feel like I have really enjoyed living there, with or without my roommate (she moved out halfway through the year), and I’ve jus gone through a lot in that room. So much has happened there and next year some other freshman will live there and they probably won’t care about it at all, the way I did. Why I care so much about a stupid room, I don’t know. I don’t usually get this sentimental. But I’m seriously going to miss that room. Plus I had an awesome view from the window.
Right before we left, I saw my two very good friends Marcus and Katelyn, and said goodbye to them. Katelyn and I hugged like normal people, but when Marcus hugged me, he picked me way up in the air, which made me laugh really loudly, then he started swinging me from side to side while he was hugging me in the air. It was positively delightful. Then we group-hugged, the three of us. It was wonderful. Moments like that should last forever. But they don’t. Oh well, there will be more like it! I love them both a lot.
Sam rode in my car with me, and my parents drove the van. We stopped halfway home at Burger King for dinner. I really don’t care for fast food much at all, but Sam and I had “mixed drinks” and grabbed a bunch of sugar packets, so, needless to say, it was a good ride home. It wasn’t long after ingesting our dinner and excessive sugar, some of which we dumped into our drinks, that we started belting out songs in a most comical and obnoxious manner, talking about extremely random things, and making strange noises to each other. I love my brother. A lot.
I got home and unloaded the car and talked to my sister and did some boring stuff and now I am sitting here writing this blog.
Hooray for my day! I hope you enjoyed reading about it as much as I enjoyed living it, but I doubt you did. Sorry.
In conclusion, I love Gavin, Marcus, Katelyn, and Sam. A lot. Just to reiterate.
God bless
Psalm 118:24 This is the day the Lord has made; Let us rejoice and be glad in it[!!!]”
Monday, May 2, 2011
El Rassi Reaction Paper (An essay for school that is personal and that I actually enjoyed writing)
For my Cultural Pluralism in American Society class (intimidating, right?) I had to read a book called Arab in America by Toufic El Rassi. It is not really a text book, but rather a graphic novel. I am not a very political person, but this book, although containing a lot of historical and political material, intrigued me and really made me see a different side of this whole thing. I highly suggest this book to Americans. Sometimes you need to see the world through someone else's eyes.
I find it ironic that the same day I finished this book, which dealt with the issue of racism as an Arab in this country that supposedly promotes freedom, and the struggles he went through, as any human being would, in dealing with the persecution because of his race, was the same day that Osama bin Laden was killed by Americans and suddenly everyone around me began to rejoice at this American "victory" because another human life was taken. While I admit that this event is probably a good thing for the world, I do not think we should approach it with rejoicing (who dares celebrate death?!), but rather with graveness and somberness.
The essay I wrote may not make total sense to you if you haven't read El Rassi's book, but I hope you get at least a little something out of it. The ending gets a little corny, and I'm aware that at times I sound like a total hippy (which I'm not), but just ignore that and try to get what I'm trying to say.
Enjoy!
El Rassi Reaction Paper
Maryann ______
Cultural Pluralism
Prof. ________
Arab in America by Toufic El Rassi amazed me. I had no idea that people in my country in modern times had to deal with such terrible discrimination, racism, prejudice, and persecution. I learned a lot of history and politics from it, as well.
The part that influenced me most in this book whas the part where Toufic is on the bus or train and a couple teenagers get on and start making fun of the guy next to him who is wearing a turban. They called him Osama and a terrorist and asked if he was going to blow them up. The man seemed to be hanging his head and lowering his head in shame, even though he is innocent, because he is being blatantly mocked for who he is, or at least for who those teenagers think he is. Toufic just sat there watching and didn’t say anything, for as badly as he wanted to stand up for the man and tell the teenagers they were wrong, but he just sat there and lowered his eyes as well. He said, “I felt like I should say something but I was scared. I wanted to tell them that he is not even Arab. I wanted to stand up for him but fear held me back. I was ashamed of myself after that. I still am” (84). Later, he also openly confesses to being a coward. I know how he feels because I am a very reserved person myself, and there have been many times where I have seen people being mocked or bullied and I didn’t do anything about it because I was scared. On the rare occasion I did muster enough courage to try to speak out, the words came out sounding automated and robotic and I was quickly shot down. In my fury, I become much less able to articulate how I feel, and so I almost have to wait until I have calmed down to be able to affectively express myself, and in certain situations, it will soon be too late. I myself wanted to jump into the book and tell those boys to shut up and show some respect, but I don’t think I would have been able to do it either, and I too, would have been ashamed for not saying anything at all.
Unfortunately, I have never known the fear of being kicked out of the country I live in simply because of my race or where I was born. I really have not even experienced any sort of racism, which makes it hard for me to empathize, but I try. However, Toufic’s style of writing makes him easy to relate to and understand. I best understood the parts where he was talking about how he was trying to find his identity, because even though I am the same race as most of the people I grew up with, I still struggled to fall into a category. I wasn’t a jock, or a brainiac (well, not always), or the class clown. I wasn’t a prep or a skater or rebel. I had a solid group of friends in middle school, but everyone had a hard time stereotyping us. We were just “that group of friends.” Once I got to high school, being in the marching band kind of put me in that group, but it still didn’t quite fit, because there was so much more to me than just a band geek. I always struggled to find identity, and I still do, but I am getting better. I know Toufic was confused with his identity too when his Arab friends took on bold identities, while he simply said, “I had no idea who I was. American? Arab? I spoke English perfectly and grew up here in the midst of this culture but I did not belong here and I knew that” (75). I know that later, he tried multiple identities, such as a revolutionary, even though he didn’t quite understand it. As a child, he went by the name “David” because it was more American than “Toufic.” He became an American citizen as well, but that was more for his protection than to give himself an identity. He tried to become a liberal and fit in with the people who he thought would be more sympathetic and tolerant of his ethnicity, but he said that even among them, he felt like an outsider. Eventually, I was relieved to find that he did eventually find a place where he felt like he belonged; in the midst of his own people. He told of an event he went to in college where he first felt this way, saying, “After years of being ashamed of who I am, having an ‘American’ name, obscuring my ethnicity, I began to realize that I had no reason to be ashamed. In fact, after learning the history of my people and understanding my culture more, I became proud of my nationality. I remember going to an event held by the Middle Eastern Students Association at my school. There was a musician playing classical Arab songs as people mingled during the performance. As the music filled the room, I noticed the beauty of the people around me. Long eyelashes and thick, full eyebrows. Big, round, piercing, dark, eyes. Rich, thick, black, hair. And I knew that I never have to hide who I am” (113).
I was also able to relate to the part when Toufic was telling a story about when he was 13 years old, he was in the car when his mother was listening to loud Arabic music. He saw a classmate and was immediate quite embarrassed of the music and turned it off, much to his mother’s dismay and confusion, before his classmate could see him. Growing up, around that age, I also was ashamed of who I was and how I was raised, when it came to my religion. I was raised in a Christian home with strong Christian parents who also played loud music. I was always embarrassed of this way of life that I grew up in, and that embarrassment increased the more I realized that other kids were not raised the same way I was. As a very young girl with no shame, I remember telling my young un-churched friends stories from the Bible and who Jesus was, but once I got older, I became ashamed of this identity. I probably would have done the exact same thing in Toufic’s situation in the car, or at least wanted to turn the music off, even if I didn’t because I was afraid of my mom getting angry with me. Now that I am older, and I have questioned my faith more, I have formed my own beliefs and still continue to follow Jesus in a more or less unashamed manner.
In conclusion, in many ways I was able to relate to Toufic’s story, but in many ways I was able only to imagine what it must have been like, since I have never had to deal with racism or major threats to my safety or security. However, I strongly sympathize with him and will do my best to live my life in a way that is respectful and loving to people of all nationalities. It is ironic that this paper is due around the same time as the death of Osama bin Laden. I was only nine years old on September 11, 2001, but now my eyes are being opened to the racism around me as I see people rejoicing at the death of a terrorist. I never knew anyone could be so hateful, especially my fellow Americans. In reaction to this book and the recent events of the world, I will fight against this hatred, persecution, and racism and boldly stand up for what I know is right.
I find it ironic that the same day I finished this book, which dealt with the issue of racism as an Arab in this country that supposedly promotes freedom, and the struggles he went through, as any human being would, in dealing with the persecution because of his race, was the same day that Osama bin Laden was killed by Americans and suddenly everyone around me began to rejoice at this American "victory" because another human life was taken. While I admit that this event is probably a good thing for the world, I do not think we should approach it with rejoicing (who dares celebrate death?!), but rather with graveness and somberness.
The essay I wrote may not make total sense to you if you haven't read El Rassi's book, but I hope you get at least a little something out of it. The ending gets a little corny, and I'm aware that at times I sound like a total hippy (which I'm not), but just ignore that and try to get what I'm trying to say.
Enjoy!
El Rassi Reaction Paper
Maryann ______
Cultural Pluralism
Prof. ________
Arab in America by Toufic El Rassi amazed me. I had no idea that people in my country in modern times had to deal with such terrible discrimination, racism, prejudice, and persecution. I learned a lot of history and politics from it, as well.
The part that influenced me most in this book whas the part where Toufic is on the bus or train and a couple teenagers get on and start making fun of the guy next to him who is wearing a turban. They called him Osama and a terrorist and asked if he was going to blow them up. The man seemed to be hanging his head and lowering his head in shame, even though he is innocent, because he is being blatantly mocked for who he is, or at least for who those teenagers think he is. Toufic just sat there watching and didn’t say anything, for as badly as he wanted to stand up for the man and tell the teenagers they were wrong, but he just sat there and lowered his eyes as well. He said, “I felt like I should say something but I was scared. I wanted to tell them that he is not even Arab. I wanted to stand up for him but fear held me back. I was ashamed of myself after that. I still am” (84). Later, he also openly confesses to being a coward. I know how he feels because I am a very reserved person myself, and there have been many times where I have seen people being mocked or bullied and I didn’t do anything about it because I was scared. On the rare occasion I did muster enough courage to try to speak out, the words came out sounding automated and robotic and I was quickly shot down. In my fury, I become much less able to articulate how I feel, and so I almost have to wait until I have calmed down to be able to affectively express myself, and in certain situations, it will soon be too late. I myself wanted to jump into the book and tell those boys to shut up and show some respect, but I don’t think I would have been able to do it either, and I too, would have been ashamed for not saying anything at all.
Unfortunately, I have never known the fear of being kicked out of the country I live in simply because of my race or where I was born. I really have not even experienced any sort of racism, which makes it hard for me to empathize, but I try. However, Toufic’s style of writing makes him easy to relate to and understand. I best understood the parts where he was talking about how he was trying to find his identity, because even though I am the same race as most of the people I grew up with, I still struggled to fall into a category. I wasn’t a jock, or a brainiac (well, not always), or the class clown. I wasn’t a prep or a skater or rebel. I had a solid group of friends in middle school, but everyone had a hard time stereotyping us. We were just “that group of friends.” Once I got to high school, being in the marching band kind of put me in that group, but it still didn’t quite fit, because there was so much more to me than just a band geek. I always struggled to find identity, and I still do, but I am getting better. I know Toufic was confused with his identity too when his Arab friends took on bold identities, while he simply said, “I had no idea who I was. American? Arab? I spoke English perfectly and grew up here in the midst of this culture but I did not belong here and I knew that” (75). I know that later, he tried multiple identities, such as a revolutionary, even though he didn’t quite understand it. As a child, he went by the name “David” because it was more American than “Toufic.” He became an American citizen as well, but that was more for his protection than to give himself an identity. He tried to become a liberal and fit in with the people who he thought would be more sympathetic and tolerant of his ethnicity, but he said that even among them, he felt like an outsider. Eventually, I was relieved to find that he did eventually find a place where he felt like he belonged; in the midst of his own people. He told of an event he went to in college where he first felt this way, saying, “After years of being ashamed of who I am, having an ‘American’ name, obscuring my ethnicity, I began to realize that I had no reason to be ashamed. In fact, after learning the history of my people and understanding my culture more, I became proud of my nationality. I remember going to an event held by the Middle Eastern Students Association at my school. There was a musician playing classical Arab songs as people mingled during the performance. As the music filled the room, I noticed the beauty of the people around me. Long eyelashes and thick, full eyebrows. Big, round, piercing, dark, eyes. Rich, thick, black, hair. And I knew that I never have to hide who I am” (113).
I was also able to relate to the part when Toufic was telling a story about when he was 13 years old, he was in the car when his mother was listening to loud Arabic music. He saw a classmate and was immediate quite embarrassed of the music and turned it off, much to his mother’s dismay and confusion, before his classmate could see him. Growing up, around that age, I also was ashamed of who I was and how I was raised, when it came to my religion. I was raised in a Christian home with strong Christian parents who also played loud music. I was always embarrassed of this way of life that I grew up in, and that embarrassment increased the more I realized that other kids were not raised the same way I was. As a very young girl with no shame, I remember telling my young un-churched friends stories from the Bible and who Jesus was, but once I got older, I became ashamed of this identity. I probably would have done the exact same thing in Toufic’s situation in the car, or at least wanted to turn the music off, even if I didn’t because I was afraid of my mom getting angry with me. Now that I am older, and I have questioned my faith more, I have formed my own beliefs and still continue to follow Jesus in a more or less unashamed manner.
In conclusion, in many ways I was able to relate to Toufic’s story, but in many ways I was able only to imagine what it must have been like, since I have never had to deal with racism or major threats to my safety or security. However, I strongly sympathize with him and will do my best to live my life in a way that is respectful and loving to people of all nationalities. It is ironic that this paper is due around the same time as the death of Osama bin Laden. I was only nine years old on September 11, 2001, but now my eyes are being opened to the racism around me as I see people rejoicing at the death of a terrorist. I never knew anyone could be so hateful, especially my fellow Americans. In reaction to this book and the recent events of the world, I will fight against this hatred, persecution, and racism and boldly stand up for what I know is right.
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