Perfection

"The thing that is really hard, and really amazing, is giving up on being perfect and beginning the work of becoming yourself."

-Anna Quindlen

Two days ago I wrote to my mom. I told her about how, although I've been down, things have been improving. As I wrote to her, I was in search of the origin to my happiness (if that makes any sense). Then it occurred to me; while I was writing a train of thoughts, the train took a halt. I wasn't happy because my expectations weren't catching up to my reality. My happiness, basically, requires perfection. You could say that idea is extremely pressuring, and dramatic, but then again what is perfection? I keep trying to attain "it", whatever "it" may be, but I think that's near to impossible. Does perfection even exist? I guess in a sense "it" has to. Though perfection may arise as a formulated opinion, an opinion is still a thought, "it" is still something. So logically, perfection does exist. Since "it" exists, then there has to be a way I can attain "it". Right? Well again, I guess attaining "it" would vary based on one's idea of perfection; and personally, my definition of perfection isn't exactly realistic.

Now the people stuck in the halted train can sing, and rejoice, because the train is fixed, and is in motion once again. Okay, I realize my metaphor sounds ridiculous, maybe it is, actually it definitely is. Okay, I'll drop it. The point I'm trying to come across is that now I have discovered my problem, I can fix it. My definition of perfection is definitely not realistic. Though I like to believe it is, truthfully it is not. Therefore, why should I kill myself over perfection, over living "it"? I'm going to stop trying so hard to make everything perfect. That will be my new "it". Maybe "it" will work, maybe "it" won't. I won't know until I find out.

Hopefully, I didn't sound like a complete lunatic with this post. Hopefully, I sounded somewhat sane. Hopefully, this made an impact on you. And hopefully, I didn't waste your time, and you'll want to keep reading for more.

The Luck of the Irish? Or Maybe Just Me...

“Faith is the art of holding on to things your reason has once accepted in spite of your changing moods.”
-C.S. Lewis

Before I begin to rant, like always, I need to get something out of the way. Well two things:

• One- Happy St. Patrick's Day! Hope everyone had a good one! And to a particular someone, I know this is practically your holiday, and I hope nothing got in the way of that.
• And two-In my last post I mentioned how this week was suppose to change everything. Well that event is apparently on hold. But really? Can you do that? I mean, technically yes. And with my luck, it's no surprise that this would only happen to me. And when will this event come about? Who knows anymore.

I'd say I'd lose faith on the whole situation, but faith is one thing that keeps me strong. In fact, faith is what this post is all about.

I'll try not to sound so naive and childish, but i'll be blunt: I'm pissed off. Yet inspired? It all started on Monday, when I hit my lowest low. My AP Lang teacher told me to switch out of her class. What? No joke. Normally the situation plays vice-versa, but let's get real. It's me. Only these ironic, unfortunate events could happen to me. I hope I don't sound conceited or selfish by that statement; trust me, I dislike these events; you can have them! At first I was furious with anger and frustration. How could a teacher tell me that I'm not smart enough to pass her class? Shouldn't a teacher praise effort and commend support. Nope. Not my AP Lang teacher. I'm not mad at her. It's not her fault that she sees no faith in me, that's how she feels. She sees no faith. And in my head, as she was talking, the words "no faith" kept orbiting my mind, practically hypnotizing me into bitterness. Then I realized, faith is meant to be held on to.

In 8th grade, I picked the confirmation name Hope, because I explained how hope is the one thing no person should ever lose. That's when it hit me. One: I actually learned something in 8th grade; and two: I can actually apply it to real life. Why should I let my teacher's vision of me be proved true? Anything is possible. And I will prove to her, and myself, that I have more potential. I have hope; faith. I believe in myself. And though my teacher doesn't, that is all a person could ask for.

Who Do You Think You Are, Hannah Montana?

"Fly high, what's real can't die."
-New Radicals

Just a fair warning: this post will be all over the place.

Let me start with what's bugging me, cause I'm a teenage girl, therefore I'm obligated complain all the time. Right? Right. This week will either make me or break me. I realize how corny that sounds, but this week will change everything. This week a decision will be made, a close-ended decision. I've never been so nervous. I would explain what this decision is but I can't. It'll make me vulnerable, and I can't do that. I have to keep my guard up; I'm sick of getting hurt. I trust that God will guide me to what is best, whether or not it makes me happy. I trust Him, but I'm still scared. But like I said in my first post, I'll stand tall even if it all goes wrong.

Now rain. I love the rain. I hate having a cold, but I love this spring rain, especially loved yesterday's fall. I can't explain why, but there's someone that knows why :) I'm sorry I'm being so vague, but suspense never hurt anyone. I also love rain because, in a sense, I feel as if it's Heaven's way of communicating. I don't mean to be all spiritual-voodoo on you guys (and yes that is the actual spelling) , but the rain is kind of a gateway to my mom. I would do anything to see her presence again. Photos don't cut it anymore. A photo contains a million words, yet it doesn't contain her soul. What keeps me from her soul is reality and Heaven, and the distance kills me sometimes. This week I especially need her.

I actually had a dream about her, yet I can't remember what she said. All I can remember is it was me, her, and my dad. We were laughing; we were happy. My grandma always told me that one day my mom will communicate with me through my dreams, yet I can't remember what she said. Yet maybe simple happiness was her message, maybe it was her way of saying we will be happy (by we I mean my family). I won't give up on trying to recall what she said to me, but for right now I will work with that as her message.

Since this is getting long I'll try to cut it short. You might be wondering what the significance of the title of this post is. If that makes any sense? All I'm going to say is watch She's Out of My League. You'll get it then, and I promise it will be worth watching.

And one more thing! I decided that before I die I want to visit Martin's Point plantation. It's the beautiful house from The Notebook, my all time favorite movie. And if you don't like that movie hear me out. The house is beautiful, at least give the movie that much credit. I was reading an old Time article about The Notebook and that's when I discovered the location of the house. If you get the chance, check out the photos! They're simply amazing.

Well I'll leave it at that. I'll tell you how this week turns out; I just hope it will be something to celebrate about. If you have any comments just post them, message me, or even tell me in person :)