Archive | May, 2013

I could be doing work but…I chose to blog instead

28 May

People ask me “are you like, actually smart?” and I usually reply with “Yes, I should actually be in MENSA”. Just kidding. Clearly if I was supposed to be in MENSA, I would’t be sitting in the middle of my media center blogging on what looks to be a two year old’s domain, balloons filling up the entire baby blue page. But they ask me if i’m smart because I “Blog”. C’mon people, this is my fourth post and now there’s some stigma attached to this damn thing that makes me intellectual? To write is not to be “smart”, just as skinny is not to be model. Writing takes passion, not brain cells. Sure, good grammar and correct spelling/punctuation is pretty swell, but you don’t have to use a lot of thought when writing. The cool thing about writing is that it doesn’t have to even have to be for scholarly purposes. Facebook statuses, that’s writing. Ladies, if you have diary’s and journals, that’s writing. All you hoodlums writing on the bathroom stalls, that’s writing (Well, I wouldn’t consider “slut” scraped into the edge of the toilet paper dispenser very passionate but hey, whatever sinks the ship).  The main point is, people have a pre-concieved notion that if one writes, you are automatically some intellectual brain who spends their time nose down in websters looking for “big words”. I don’t write to look smart or to gain attention, I write to release passion. I would say for most kids in my generation, writing would be the safest place to “release passion” (Insert your own innuendo there). I don’t know the moment that I ultimately defined myself as a writer either. Is there some sort of brand? A logo I should tattoo on an obscure part of my body? (I all of the sudden have the image plastered in my head of “WRITER” tattoo’d behind my left knee). Well, whenever I decided. I like it.


The significance of a “Thank-You”

28 May

Happy Memorial Day! I do think that Memorial Day has a different meaning to everyone. Today I was given the gracious opportunity to speak at the Memorial Day program in our community, and it was truly a humbling experience to see all of the veterans looking up at me while I recited a beautiful poem. When I think of the significance of today, a few things come to mind. First of all, I think of close family members who have served in wars, both past and present. Second, I cannot help but feel humbled by all of the veterans who continue to take pride in all of the service they have provided for our country. If we think about it, these veterans will no longer be here to share their stories of war and the struggles they have endured. Lastly, I think of smiles. It sound strange, but I think of smiles. Many might say that today of all day is NOT about smiles, but I beg to differ. As children we are always taught that a smile can change someones day, so smile as much as possible. I’ve always been told that it takes more muscles to frown than smiling, so smile. But I also think of pain. A smile hides pain, am I right? Memorial day is a day of remembrance and pain. As a veteran, I could not imagine waking up on memorial day. Put yourself into a veterans shoes:

You’re old. You can’t deny the inevitable, you’re old. You’re frail, potentially wounded in war. Getting out of bed is a potential struggle due to your frailness. You change up your daily routine slightly by putting on your old military uniform, maybe your legion jacket. You shine up your shoes, blow the dust off of all your pins and the decorations on your jacket. You find you hat, carefully put it on top of your stereotypical comb-over (If you have hair at all, that is). Finish up the daily routine and have your breakfast. Grab your keys and just before leaving your home, you look in the mirror. When you look in the mirror, you see a different person. Today isn’t the routine “look in the mirror before heading out” type of deal. When you look in the mirror, you see the memories of what you’ve suffered through. You see lost friends and loved ones. In your eyes, you see the eyes of dead soldiers looking back at you, glazed over. When you look in the mirror, you see the wrinkles in your skin and realize you’re not as young as you thought you were. But, when you think about your youth, you remember the moment you enlisted and potentially signed your life away with one stroke of the pen. Lastly, when you look in the mirror, you glance at your teeth. Whether you’ve got dentures or still the same pearly whites you were born with, you glance at your teeth. These teeth are your security blanket and they’re your sunshine on a rainy day. When you think about your teeth, you think about the smiles you’ve had to fake and the times you’ve had to grit your teeth to stop the tears. On days like memorial day, the one day out of the year solely dedicated to you, you have to smile. When that little girl comes up to you and shakes your hand and says “thank-you”, you smile and kindly accept the gesture. The young man who has served two tours in iraq comes and firmly shakes your hand, saluting you for all your service because he knows what he has seen is nothing compared to what you have seen, you smile and applaud him for his continuation of service to our country. You visit the cemeteries of your friends and comrades who didn’t live to see this memorial day and smile, because you know they’re living far beyond this earthly life and smiling back down on you. Now that you’ve looked at yourself in the mirror and relived every single memory, moment and heartache of your past, you grab your keys and leave for that Memorial Day service you’ve been waiting for all year.

Thank a veteran, because they’re smiling on a day when it’s hardest to smile.

What comes after death?

25 May

I’ve been doing a lot of thinking in the past few weeks about life and things of that nature. Within a very short span, my community has faced so many different tragedies and obstacles. We’ve had deaths, accidents and injuries. What really never ceases to amaze me is the strength our community has to blend as one family. I’ve grown up in this town for majority of my life and i’ve still never felt like one of “the towns own” because of my lack of a certain heritage. While I don’t feel part of this community, I do feel one thing; compassion. I’ve always been taught to Treat everyone with kindness, regardless of who they are and whether you like them or not and that has stuck with my entire life. In the face of hardships, that’s exactly what this town does, it smiles and waves and moves on. That makes me happy. Slightly emotional and sentimental, but happy. We stick together, love together and learn together. With that being said, I will brush over a “touchy” subject. When a life is lost and moves on to a greater place, what do we as the people “mourning” do? When I mourn, I cry and get angry. I don’t like death. Not even so much death, I don’t like letting go. One thing I’ve noticed in this town is that when people “mourn”, they roll em’ up, light em’ up and smoke em’ up. (Not everyone, but i’ve heard stories of people lighting it up right outside of the funeral home) I don’t know about you, but white-girl-wasted doesn’t exactly seem like much of a celebration about life. Celebrate life in a way that doesn’t harm your life. I’ve been the type of person to deal with death in different ways. Believe it or not, i’m not that much of an emotional person in public. I don’t like crying and all that jazz. Not my thing. I have cried at funerals, yes, but i’m the bottle-it-up type. In light of the recent deaths, one hopes that the family and friends find piece and DON’T bottle it up. It’s a sad time, but the community comes together. Unfortunately the ways of mourning aren’t all the same. Death. It’s a strange phenomena but it happens.

“That’s what comes after death, a memory treasure.”

Insert cliche post about your first blog post.

25 May

I think I finally caved and got a blog. There were parts of me that were saying “No, don’t get a blog because people always talk about how social media is bad and it will follow you for life”. The other part was saying “Yes, get a blog because even if people never read it, you’ll be able to put all of your thoughts on the inter web”.  The last part of me was telling me to do immoral and unjust things, so I decided to cave and blog it out. I’m still really not quite sure of this whole ordeal. Is this like a diary? Clearly i’m not going to put my nitty gritty information on here. Or is this more of a “hipster-awkward-teenager-stage thing?”. Either way, I like it. Call me Jenna Hamilton. Minus Matty McKibben.. Ha. Awkward. Maybe i’ll become more sophisticated and all that jazz. Do famous people have blogs? Maybe i’ll become famous, and people will pay me to blog nonsense and endless pictures of cats. Actually, I could really get used to that. Now I should invest in some hipster glasses and TOMS. That’s what comes to mind when I think of hipsters; TOMS and hipster glasses (By hipster glasses I don’t mean girls that take pictures and duck face with the caption “Nerd glasses LOLOLOLOLOL” like no. Those aren’t nerd glasses OR hipster glasses, you’re just a bimbo who popped out the lenses of a perfectly good pair of glasses that a real hipster could have been using. just no.) I wonder if other people make that face when their blogging. Squinty eyes, looks up at ceiling with deep thought and goes WOW, I feel so intellectual. Or maybe that’s just me. Well, this now ends the celebratory first blog post.

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