Saturday, April 28, 2012

A little rant for the evening.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

The semester is almost complete.

I can't even begin to describe the sense of relief that has begun to come over me. Despite the numerous things I have to accomplish before I can claim to be done, I feel good.

All semester long, I looked at this mound of school work as a hellish monster that was sure to consume me in one piece. The reality: it was slightly less hellish than assumed and only ate one little piece of me at a time. BUT, the good news is, like a lizard's tail, my parts grew back slowly.

I also kept my hair. I did rip some out on occasion when things just weren't going my way and the devil was having a field trip in my mind. I also discovered some gray hairs, and eyebrow hairs, and eyelashes (which I found very strange). But I just borrowed some of the stuff my mom uses to get rid of her grays and everything is okay.
(Just kidding, Mommy. I love you.)
This semester flew by like some of the best parts of my life. They say time flies when you're having fun. I think time also flies when you don't have time to slow down and check your calendar or even your watch. I made a lot of self-discoveries. I learned a lot about myself, my endurance, my tolerance, my talents, my ability to overcome certain odds, my time management skills (and the need for improvement) and most importantly, my strength.

Sidenote: time for a tangent.


Don't ask why, but I decided to look up my career choice on Urban Dictionary to see how people "define me". This is what I found:
"Journalist: a professional liar. a professional distorter. a professional hate mongerer. they craftily use newspapers and television programs to create the illusion that the entire world believes like them. in reality, they are literally just a couple psychos with a really big megaphone. Like Satan, they only have any influence in your life if you choose to let them in."
Sit back. Here we go.

~Professional liar- actually, like most jobs, when journalists lie, they get fired. In fact, the job of an editor is to make sure the journalists are not liars. In fact, journalists are required to cite all information and sources to protects against lying. In fact, the first rule in journalism is "do not fabricate or falsify".

~Professional distorter- see above.

~Professional hate mongerer- I think I'll start by stating the obvious. The creator of this post on Urban Dictionary is obviously not a writer at all because "mongerer" is not in the English vocabulary. Second of all, someone has their panties in a twist. The job of a journalist is not to incite anger or hate. It is to convey factual information that educates the reader.

~Craftily using newspaper and television to create the illusion that the entire world believes like journalists- ha. hahahahaha. haha. That was my first reaction to reading this sentence. Craftily using newspaper and television? Yeah, that's not exactly how this field works. Television and newspaper use information put together by journalists. The journalists are not responsible for the information that is presented. They do not create the facts or the situations or the results. They simply act as a medium for the general public to receive information. And to make the public "believe like them"? Journalists don't believe anything. We're trained to basically doubt everything. We have to research the research that the researchers give us. We are trained to make sure that anything we say or use is obtained from an educated, professional, reliable source. The general public couldn't "believe like us" if they tried.

~A couple of psychos with megaphones- see local high school cheerleaders.

~They only have an influence if you let them in- This one is tough. They are referring to "journalists" here, but I think they're missing something bigger. Journalists have a lot less power over lives than marketers and advertisers. Not to say they are negative, but their job is to convince people to buy crap that they don't need. That's their job, you can't be mad at them for doing it. Billboards, TV commercials, advertisements on the web and in the paper and magazines, articles people read---everything has an affect on people. You can't help but let them in. Don't hate on journalists for bringing you the information you want. I guarantee the creator of this post has no idea how much positive affect the media has had on him/her. They are probably completely unaware that because of journalism, the rapist that lived down the street was caught. The drug dealer around the corner is gone. The business he/she owns has clients and customers because of media. True, these are extreme examples, but let's all just chill out.

I am not saying that other professions aren't challenging. Law school is hard. Medical school is hard. Hospitality management is a huge challenge. But journalism is it's own kind of OMGTHISISHARD. The amount work and dedication and time put into this career is often overlooked. I think it's time for some of us to stand up and show those Urban Dictionary haters what's up.


Saturday, April 14, 2012

I did not grow up.

I was raised.

I say yes ma'am, no sir, please, and thank you. I shake hands with someone when I meet them. I bow my head and fold my hands when I pray before my meal. I place my hand over my heart during the Pledge of Allegiance. I offer my seat to the elderly and mothers holding their children.

I was raised.

If I'm asked to do a job, I do it. And I do it to the best of my ability. I make my share of mistakes, but I own up to them. I learn to do things on my own so I do not have to depend on others. I do not expect to be given anything; I work for what I have.

I was raised.

I trust people until I am given a reason not to. I see the good in everyone, even when most people only see the bad. I give second chances, even though sometimes I shouldn't. I never make a promise that I cannot keep.

I was raised.

The choices I make are not based on what other people think. My beliefs are not based on what other people say. My values are not based on how the world has changed. My choices, my beliefs and my values are based on the way I was raised.

I was raised to be strong, independent, smart (street and book), modest, hard-working, trustworthy and self-confident.

But sometimes:
I have moments of weakness. I need someone to help me. I make stupid decisions. I say and do things I know I shouldn't. I slack off. I don't tell the whole truth. I doubt myself.

Thanks to my mother and father, I'm able to get past the weakness and dependence and mistakes and let-downs and doubts. I'm able to pick myself up, dust myself off and continue on with my head held high.

I did not just grow up, I was raised.


I miss you, Daddy.
10.07.2008 <3

Sunday, February 5, 2012

Reality Check.

Pain is such a complicated feeling.

As humans, we feel pain in so many ways. We feel physical pain, we feel emotional pain. Sometimes we feel it when we're happy, we always feel it when we're sad. It doesn't get better with age, it doesn't make any more sense as we become more wise.

I think the pain that hurts the worst is when your heart breaks, but the tears don't fall. It's like your brain is trying to tell you that you should have expected it. Part of you was expecting it all along. Now that the pain has finally made its way to your heart, your brain has moved on. You would give anything to cry, make the pain go away, but you can't.

I am smart. My father always told me, my mother always told me, my friends always told me.

I know I'm smart, but I also know that I make a lot of stupid decisions. My problem is that, all too often, I think with my heart. Sometimes that's a good thing, but often it is quite the opposite.

Tonight, my heart hurts. I have let my heart lead me down a path that I knew would not end well. As I sit on my couch and dwell on fond memories and feelings, the tears have finally started flowing. Not because my heart hurts, but because I realize the stupid decisions I have made in following my heart and not my brain. I let my heart believe something that my brain knew was wrong.

Pain is such a complicated feeling.

I can count on two hands the number of people that I love. People that I truly love, that truly love me.

I don't mean "love".
I don't mean they tell me things they think will make me feel good because they want to feel good.
I don't mean they say "I love you" because that's what they're supposed to say.
I don't mean they shell out empty promises to me.

The people I love (and that love me) promise the world, and they mean it.
They tell me they love me because how they really feel can't be expressed in words.
They tell me things that they think will make me feel better, only because they want to be there in my time of need.
Those are the people I love.

Sadly, I can count them on two hands.

Like I said before, I think my brain was just waiting for this moment. It knew all along. It tried to show me the signs, but my heart blew it off. It tried to warn me, but my heart ignored it. Now it's telling my heart "I told you so", and my heart is feeling the pain.

I have let my heart believe this lie for far too long. It will be so hard to convince my heart that it is untrue, to convince my heart to move on. But I will try. Fortunately, those people that I can count on two hands will be there for me.

My heart and my brain deserve better. Now I just have to wait for better to come along. ...And I need to buy a new communication system for my brain and my heart: they are going to have to start communicating better before the other organs start a riot.

Wednesday, January 18, 2012

Quirks.

I don't know who actually reads what I post, so if you care...here's a little bit you might not know about me.

*I am 21 years old. My mental (maturity) age is about 7 and a half. My body's physical age is about 84. I watch cartoons while I use my heating pad.

*When I'm alone in the car with the radio on, I harmonize. And I'm pretty darn good at it! Don't judge me.

*I cry almost every time I see roadkill. Hunting doesn't bother me, but seeing those poor animals in the road just gets me.

*I gag when people touch me with their feet. I don't care if you have socks on. Don't touch me with your feet. And don't touch my feet.

*When I cook, I like to put music on and pretend I'm one of those people in the movies. You know, they dance and sing while they cook and they look cool...

*When I can't sleep, I turn on Pandora and listen to the "Ambient" station. That's all it takes; I pass out.

*I open my mouth really wide when I'm putting my eyeliner on. Apparently I also do it when I put my mascara on; but only on the bottom lashes. I don't know why.

*My index finger always migrates to the point of my nose when I'm thinking. When I'm thinking really hard, my fingers starts tapping.

*You can tell I'm tired when I forget what I was talking about 5 seconds ago. Or in the middle of a story.

*(Warning: TMI) Coffee makes me pee more than any other drink. Tea takes 2nd place. Alcohol takes 3rd.

*In the shower, I often get distracted by the wonderful hot water and forget if I washed my hair yet. So I'll wash it again.

*When my stomach growls at me, I talk back to it. If it keeps going, we usually have a conversation.

* I think out loud way too much. I get it from my mother. People probably think I'm a little bit schizophrenic.

*When stores send me coupons, I feel obligated to shop there. Especially when it's a really good deal. I wish they knew I couldn't afford it.

*If I had to, I could live solely off of sandwiches and watermelon. However, I would need a stove to cook my sandwich; I like my sandwiches "toasted".

*If I have something exciting to tell someone, I text them. But I don't tell them what's exciting, I just say "I have something exciting to tell you!" Then I make them wait.

*Way too often, when I get a text, I respond in my head and forget to actually text it back. I remember later when I wonder why they haven't texted ME back...

*I love the smell of campfire, pipes, cigars, windex, coffee, chapstick, new car, puppy breath, and my grandma's house.

*I hate the smell of chicken, excessive cologne, red beans and rice, onion, Fabuloso (cleaner), and cigarette smoke.

*When I'm having deep conversation and I'm about to make a point, I make a squinty face and shrug my shoulders. Then say "I don't know". (Thanks for pointing this out Brandon. I guess I should just make my point!)

*One of my favorite things in the world is waking up to a text message from someone I care about. It starts my day off wonderfully.

Well, that's all for now. Just a few random facts for you to laugh at. I have many quirks and love when people point them out to me. Don't be afraid to bring them up. ( but please be kind haha )

Monday, January 16, 2012

So what's your "type"?

I really don't like when people ask "so, what do you look for in a guy?" or "what's your type?".

First of all, I don't necessarily "look" for anything. But second of all, there's a standard answer that you'll get from any girl.

"Honest, good sense of humor, fun, outgoing, smart, hardworking, likes me for who I am..." blah. blah. blah! DUH That's what everyone wants in a significant other. So let's get a little more personal for a minute here.

When I was about 14, my Sunday School teacher told us we needed to make a list. We needed to list the qualities/standards we expect in a man and to never stray from them. I found my list recently. There are two sides.

Side One- "What I Want In A Guy":

Honest
Respectful of self and others
Confident
Believer
Worshiper
Loves children
Similar interests
Likes me for me
Compassionate
Smart
Loving
Trustworthy
Reliable
Fun
Enjoyable
Likes my family
Loves his family
Pure
Inner beauty
Compatible
Same beliefs/views

Side Two- "What I Don't Want In A Guy":

Disrespectful
Liar
Untrustworthy
Non-believer
Rude
Dislikes children
Dirty Mouth
Stuck up/self centered
No respect for my boundaries
Dislikes my family
Not family oriented
Know-it-all
Different interests
Cheater
Low self-esteem
Jealous

Though it's hard to say exactly what you want out of a relationship, I obviously knew myself pretty well because these are still applicable to my life. But when I look back at my past relationships, I can see where I strayed:
  • The ones who don't find the time to text/call/talk to me. 
  •  The ones who don't find the time to spend with me, take me on a date, show that he truly cares about me. 
  •  The ones who think it's okay to disrespect me in any way. 
  •  The ones who complain about spending money on me. I don't ask for things, I don't expect him to buy me anything. But an occasional date (movie, dinner, day at the museum) shouldn't be a burden on him. 
  •  The ones who are jealous. Jealousy is not attractive. I have MANY male friends because that's how I grew up. Boys don't bring drama, they don't bicker about petty things, they are enjoyable. If a guy is jealous of my friendships and can't trust me, it's a no-go. 
  •  The ones who like to only call/text late at night. We all know what that means. You're not getting anything from me. 
  •  The ones who objectify women. Talking about me (or any girls, for that matter) as if I'm some kind of object is not something that I admire. 

One day, a handsome man in his Tony Llamas with an appropriate amount of facial hair will ride up in his beautiful Dodge listening to Jason Aldean and will proceed to sweep me off my feet as we drive through the country and gaze at the stars. BUT, until that dream comes true, I'm just going to enjoy my life. I'm going to listen to the 14-year-old Allison. She knew what she was talking about.

And the challenge begins.

Tuesday, December 13, 2011

Thank goodness for crossing paths

I love stimulating conversations.

I have recently begun a new friendship/relationship. His name is Brandon and he is wonderful! Every conversation we have turns into something deeper and more thought provoking. We can sit down to study for political science and end up talking about the meaning of life and the hardships we endure. He constantly encourages me in everything I do. He praises me for my talents, he helps me keep my chin up when life gets me down, he reminds me of my wonderful qualities. He confides in me, he trusts me with his secrets, he makes me feel special and important. He is a wonderful person.

Over the last two weeks, we have had several "deep" conversations. It's funny, I feel comfortable talking to him about anything. And the poor guy sits and listens to me blab on and on. And when I'm done talking, he responds. He actually listens to what I say, he hears what I say, he engages in a conversation. We talk about our past, present, and future. We talk about our thoughts, our hopes, our aspirations. We encourage each other. It's been a long time since I have had someone like him in my life.

Honestly, I can't express how grateful I am for him. I'm at a point in my life where I am questioning many things. I'm dealing with a lot. I have so many fears and thoughts and worries that I can't seem to let go of. But talking to this incredible man makes some of those worries and thoughts and fears easier to digest.

I've said it before and I'll say it again: My life is not hard. I find it challenging, but in comparison to what many others deal with each day, my life is not hard. I've never had it easy, either. I've always had to work for what I wanted. I'm thankful for that. If I want something, I will work my butt off until I get it. I don't want everything handed to me; I want the satisfaction of knowing I did it.

Life is not easy. But with wonderful people like Brandon and my best friends Mandy and Tricia and my sister Britini around me, it becomes a little bit easier to handle.

Friday, November 25, 2011

I think out loud. Watch out, here I go.

"Life sucks, and then you die." -John "Chip" Miller, he has a point.

I have finally had time to relax and let life soak in. I've come to a few realizations. God reminded me about a few things that had apparently slipped my mind.

Looking at the stars is, to me, one of the best things in the world. I don't have to think about anything, I don't have to care about anyone. All of my thoughts, my worries, my troubles float to the stars. As I sat in the back of the truck the other night, I looked up and just watched. I felt so many emotions running through my body. They were all floating away.
I whispered "I miss you, Dad." At that moment, a shooting star flew across the sky. Tears began to flow down my face. It was a sad happy scary exciting moment. At that point, I wanted nothing more than to grab my dad and give him the biggest hug you could imagine. When reality sunk in, it began to hurt. But it reminded me that he is still there. He knows how to make my troubles disappear. And even though I can't physically come home and cry to him about everything and let him put my mind at ease, he manages to touch my heart.


Then I just laid there and let my mind wander.
I have made many mistakes in my life.

One mistake I seem to make a lot lately is putting my happiness in others' hands. I know that when I do that, I always end up heartbroken. They've let me down. I've been lied to, cheated on, disrespected, treated as second best or least important, and flat out traumatized emotionally. (For any future relationships that I may be lucky enough to endure, the poor guy will have to understand my damaged female brain.)
Either they decide I don't deserve to be treated well or they think they can trample all over me or they wait until I confide in them and then they rip my heart open.
I'm tired of letting others decide my happiness. You make your own happiness.
For those of you that have disrespected and looked down on me, I don't need you or your approval.
For those of you who thought you could walk out of my life and then try to squeeze your way back in, goodbye.
For those of you took my happiness and destroyed it, I hope you feel better about yourself.
**My joy no longer rests in you. My joy is found elsewhere.

I recently developed a great relationship with a new friend. He is wonderful. He reminds me to be optimistic. He doesn't let me get down on myself. I always tell him what's bothering me (and the poor guy listens) and tells me to be positive. He reminded my that joy does not come from others. You should really cherish every day and live it to its fullest. Life is too short to wish for something different. Live for the day, embrace life. Thank you, Brandon.

I hadn't seen my dad's family since before he died. I saw them for the first time in about 5 years on Thursday. Walking into their house, I felt a huge wave of emotions. I was so happy to be back. Growing up, I could not WAIT to get to John and Juanelle's house. It was the coolest place to go: they had video games, a big TV, an upstairs just for me and my brother full of awesome toys, food everywhere, and great company. I felt like I was back where I belonged. But I hadn't been there since before my dad died. It felt incomplete. I felt like if I walked out to the living room, he'd be sitting there watching football with Uncle John holding his spit cup in his hand and drinking from his huge water mug. But I never saw him, my heart never felt that relief. Being around the family again was just what I needed to remind me that life is so fragile. Family is important.

I keep saying there are so many things that I need to change. Then I sit back and wait until things start to change. But, they never do. I can't just sit around and wait for it to happen. I have to be the change. I have to make the changes. I have to put in effort to get out reward. I have a lot to work for and there's no better time to start than now.