Choosing Happiness – Countdowns, Part 1

I was looking forward to whatever was the highly anticipated event of my 12 year-old life and telling my uncle how many months, days and hours were left until I was able to do whatever I would be doing at said event. He just kind of chuckled and said, “Yup. Life is a series of countdowns. You count down to one thing, and when that one’s over, it’s to the next one.” I wholeheartedly agreed: People trudge through the boring, anxious, or stressful parts just to enjoy the weekends. We have perfected the art of judging its day based on its location in the work-week:

Monday is to be despised – it is our enemy and shall be vanquished. Whoever loves Monday is an alien and should be ostracized because, clearly, they’re not normal.

Tuesday isn’t any better,  and Wednesday isn’t just hump day because it’s in the middle of the week. Cleverly named, “hump day” probably saves us all from getting fired on Thursday. Thank the boss’ sig fig later.

Thursday brings the beacon of hope, the light at the end of the tunnel; and Friday – the day we wait for since Sunday afternoon.

I ask you - What kind of a life is that?

We essentially waste 4.5 days for two (the other .5 is Sunday evening, when everyone prepares (home)work for the next day). Instead of mumbling and grumbling, I think it would be incredibly worth it to try and smile on Monday – maybe give an encouraging word to a co-worker, or simply smile on your morning commute (yes, even when you’re in traffic. Ever notice that radios try putting their most entertaining hosts on at the times that humans tend to be stressed the most? Find the station that encourages you the most and try to push everything else from your mind.

It’s an amazing, powerful feeling when you decide to choose happiness.
It’s crazy to think that some people believe they don’t have a choice.

Skinny Isn’t A Curse

I’ve seen a status floating around Facebook that seems to be gaining popularity: “For girls dying to be a size zero: sweetie, remember real men go for curves, only dogs go for bones.” I am seeing this just after reading a post somewhere saying “Skinny girls look like 9 year old boys.” I understand, girls who are dying for a size zero might be hurting themselves to get there – seriously hurting themselves. But do you think hearing things like this — MORE TAUNTS — about not being desirable to a “real” man (whatever constitutes a real man – that’s a whole nother debate in itself) because they are STILL not good enough… is that really going to help them? NO! It is something terrible that can really hurt a woman’s feelings, and I refuse to just stand by without saying a word. It makes me livid.

I am naturally skinny, and I do not appreciate being told that I am something to be thrown to an animal, or that I do not even look like a female. I am working with what God gave me, and it has taken me years of insecurities to finally be happy with my more-or-less flat chest and mediocre booty. I can’t change it, but I can change the way I think about it, and I love myself. I do not feel the need to tell others they are undesirable in order to inflate my own self-worth.

My message is short, and sweet: Be happy with who you are, but DO NOT put other people down to make yourself feel better.

Beginnings (and excuses).

I woke up at 6:30 this morning to get ready for my 9:40am class. Why disturb my heavenly sleep so early? I’m asking myself the same thing. My initial reasoning was that I was being smart and allowing myself [plenty of] time to commute (bus, train, train) and find the building my honors world lit class would be housed in because I never walked by it before. I knew the general direction, and when I saw a building with vines, I figured it was time to change course and move east. I did, and wha-la, there stood my building. I glanced down at my phone (remember when, in the olden days, they used to say “glanced down at my watch.” How regal that sounds now) and saw I still had a whollleee hour before my class. So, rather than be lame and wait 40 minutes away on a bench like an elder feeding ducks (and even their time would be more exciting – they actually have ducks), I decided to explore. I am going to school in Chicago after all. I get off my tush and start walking, noting my backpack feels a tad heavier than I originally presumed it was going to be. I see a pretty building…. White, with small balcony-looking things on the window…. Hey! Look! A McDonalds!

And here I am.

In hindsight, I’m an idiot for waking up so early.

Moving on –

Since I’ve been busy, everyone seems to be asking how everything’s going since I just returned from a trip I took Labor Day weekend (I visited my boyfriend’s family in Arkansas). I have so many different things going on with school and my life and school and my life (intentionally repeated, don’t worry), that I feel like I can’t keep up with everyone I would like to. I love my friends to the death, but goodness do I feel overwhelmed. So – rather than respond to 2039470932742y facebooks individually (basically telling the whole story), I decided to write a post during my breaks between classes. Oh, and if you’re thinking “What!? I’m not worth a personal story?!” This should make you feel better.. It’s the honest truth that, because of my crazy busy schedule, you’d probably only get one or two broad stories. Here, you’ll get all the stories and all the details. Yay!) In the midst of this, however, I really am grateful that I have so many different people interested in what the hells going on in my life. If nothing else, y’all are just [forcing] me to write down memories that I know I’ll want to look back on when I’m 90. If it weren’t for you, I might not have even thought of creating a written record of this crazy transition in my life this week. Point is – thanks for honing in on the ‘nosy’ in you – it’s appreciated! =D

I’ll try really hard to get some of this last week posted soon. Stay tuned!

A [Facebook] Ramble

     When someone updates their status on Facebook, two things are most likely going to ensue: the status can be liked by a person’s friends or a friend can leave a comment.

     I seem to have a problem with the ‘like’ button. ‘Why in the world, PrettyNerd, does this matter?’ you might ask me. I’ll tell you why – it’s the difference between a shrimp and a whale, tolerance and appreciation… LIKE and flipping LOVE.

     Both show a positive emotion, of course. Both acknowledge what was said, but if further analyzed, this (seemingly trivial) post shows some of the real intentions behind the actions. Like I said – shrimp vs whale.

     A ‘like’ shows that one agrees with the emotion, idea, thought or belief that was posted. Aquaintances are most likely to ‘like.’ They don’t need to start a conversation or rekindle a lost friendship – they just say “yes. you have a point.” and move on to the next ‘friend.’ This kind of bugs me – it’s the impersonal side of facebook that I don’t want infiltrating the social network. They’re not engaging in a conversation with me – they are simply nodding at my words. That’s like twiddling your thumbs during a meeting at which you’re being lectured. The facebook status might be a short type of lecture, but if you just kind of nod, you’re not contributing to the meeting or discussion. This makes the facilitator (or status writer) sad.

     A comment goes way beyond a simple acknowledgment for me. Instead of just smiling at my statuses, the friends who comment my statuses seem to be going out of their way to contribute to the  ‘meeting’ going on on my facebook. A comment furthers the topic started and even opens the opportunity to make plans with a friend I haven’t seen in a while. When a friend ‘likes’ my status, where am I left to go? Am I to go to their wall and type “Thanks for liking my status! I’m so glad you agree with me!” — Sorry, but this would get tiring (and a tad annoying). Certainly, liking is great for showing that human beings actually agree with something or someone (especially when someone’s status is awesome enough to get 25+ people to like it).

     After a birthday party of mine (the first and last ‘big’ party i had during my high school years),  I learned that in the debate of quantity versus quality, the latter definitely wins. I had invited a lot of people, then realized my ‘real’ friends were those who helped me clean up afterwards – not just the ones who were drinking all the booze and riding out the buzz. I invited around 20 people… only 3 people helped me clean up. These 3 people ended up becoming my best friends (and the current commentors on my facebook statuses haha).  

Point is, while one might be loving their 30+ ‘likes’ – I’m enjoying my minimal comments (or even the 7+ coments that are only between 2 or 3 people). It might be silly, but I think the facebook friends I have that comment my statuses are my real friends.

Because if you think about it, writing a facebook status is like holding up a poster with your current thoughts written on them, walking down the street.  The friends that ‘comment,’ are the ones that stop and chat, showing their genuine care and concern. All these others (the ‘likers’) just kind of wave and walk by.

Let me ask you:

Which are the more genuine friends?