Stop trying to shock me

I've never appreciated the media's attempts to shock me into liking things. I find the constant bombardment of extreme scenarios annoying, and I tend to avoid ostentatious ceremonies and performances (see award shows). Also, I find horror films laughable, Reality TV makes me want to shrug my shoulders and say "eh," and commercials warning of impending heart attacks or plaque build-up rarely impact my thoughts. I do, however, love suspense, but I prefer the kind with substance rather than eerie music interrupted by a bursts of sound.

Why am I talking about this now?

I watched Dorian Gray.

I'm a little behind on this one, but that seems to be a trend for me right now. Anyway, I liked the book quite a bit. Oscar Wilde's portrayal of Victorian duplicity is admirable. And even though I was a bit bored during the ridiculously long inventory of all of Dorian's extravagance, the payoff at the end was more than enough.

Wilde's novel was intended to shock people (and it succeeded), so I even began the movie intending to be shocked. The first few moments were excellent. They were shocking, but promised explanation, and (knowing the book) I recognized it as a great place to start. It set the tone and the mood perfectly, and I settled in for a good movie. For the next half hour I admired the sets, costumes, dialogue, and even the acting.

But once they were through with the novel's substance they began their self-indulgent portrayal of Dorian's moral demise. Nothing beyond what Wilde alluded to, but annoying to have to sit through. For the next half hour, you don't see hedonism in any form other than sexual immorality, which might be the reason some people will watch the film.

The rest of the movie wasn't too awful, but the mood was ruined. Why did they have to take a half a chapter's worth of material and balloon it into 30 minutes? I realized that error meant they didn't have the proper time to do the characters of Sybil and Basil justice. They were created for balance, and without them, the movie lacked . . . substance. It became a cliche and a disappointment.

I'm not the only one annoyed by this, am I?

Regarding the time I took a couple months off . . .

. . . sorry. Glad to see you stuck around. You all look great by the way.

I was busy (work); I was lazy (mmm sleep); and I was distracted (Wii, family, shiny things). I was doing what I've noticed most bloggers do from time to time. I doubt many noticed - and if you did, I have a feeling you were and are okay (but thanks for noticing).

Still, in this newly started year, I return to my favorite avenue for the sharing of my thoughts.

So here's a thought I had today: I don't dream big enough. I just tweeted that sentiment, and now I want to write something more substantial.

Thanks to my subscription the npr's podcast (I'm a nerd, I know - I embrace it), I finally listened to MLK Jr.'s entire "Dream" speech. I've heard the last few minutes countless times - okay, maybe 20 - but I hadn't listened to the whole thing before. And it's worth all the hype that came with today.

I tend to pick apart speeches. I hate dislike them, especially ones from politicians. Most can be boiled down a single trite comment. This speech proves they can say so much more. The anaphora "I have a dream" is just the tip of the iceberg. MLK Jr. also repeats "now is the time," "we cannot be satisfied," "let freedom ring," and of course "free at last."

He uses jokes, allusions, contrasts, familiar places and quotations, and excellent illustrations. My new favorite quote from it is "This is no time to engage in the luxury of cooling off or to take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism." Big words. Another thing I noticed was he is unashamedly religious. He beliefs come from somewhere greater than one person and one family.

Anyway, you already knew the speech was good. And while I generally boycott the concept of making resolutions, perhaps I will strive towards one: To dream bigger. I like to keep things practical. Which really means I hesitate before doing anything big or small. I mull things over and over and settle for the option most likely to succeed. Probably not the best practice. After all, if we never dreamed the impossible dream, we would never know what's possible.

I got this from donteatthepaste.com - great stuff there :)

On a moment past

Due to a washing machine issue, I found myself at the laundromat for the first time yesterday. Special experience, I know. After starting my loads of lights and darks, I situated myself in a chair which allowed me to keep an eye on the machines and the door simultaneously (a very important thing when I'm in a new place - especially one so foreign and mysterious). I pulled out my book, started my music, and that is when she entered.

At first, I knew only that I recognized her, but after stealing several glances, I figured out who she was. She was a member of my high school graduating class. Appearance wise, Stephanie (for that is her name) hadn't changed much. But then, she could probably have said the same thing about me. It's good to know that someone else hadn't changed her hairstyle for six years either. She also wore a baggy sweatshirt and jeans - an outfit common to any high school. These factors gave me a sense of relative certainty regarding her identity. Throughout high school we had been friendly, but not particularly close. Our school was fairly small, and because we had several friends in common, we ate at the same lunch table most of the time. But I don't have any specific memories of her. After figuring out who she was, I considered saying hello.

I came up with a fairly decent plan. I would say her name with a tinge of hesitancy, mention our common place of education and drop my name (just in case she didn't remember me, although I suspected she did), and then I would ask her how she was. Her reply would dictate how long our conversation would last, and I had the easy out of "needing to check my laundry" if I wanted an escape. I was ready to tell her about the miniature deluge that had happened the day before and the consequent need for visiting the local Suds 'n Duds.

All I needed to do was find the right timing. But she had come with someone else, so I didn't want to interrupt their conversation. And the more I thought about it, the more I thought it would just be incredibly awkward. I began to dread that potential uneasiness. Pretty soon, I was folding my clothes and they were heading out (all their shirts would be wrinkled by the time they got home tsk tsk tsk).

I was left to my thoughts. Where's my sense of community? Why didn't we say hello? What did she think when she saw me? And where did that other black sock go? I decided my actions (or rather my lack thereof) were pathetic, but typical. I often find myself waiting for that perfect moment and miss my chance completely. We had spent over an hour in the same space, but hadn't exchanged a single word. We could have had a nice conversation. We could have shared our lives for a moment. I might have found a new person to attend concerts with (I seem to be lacking in that department). Instead, however, I did nothing, and am left with just my thoughts and this blog post.

A small, but annoying problem

I write down quotations. Constantly. When I'm walking past someone who makes a ridiculous comment (like the teenager who said "I don't know what it is, but your shirt reminds me of some Asianness" to her friend in the obviously Chinese-inspired top). When I see a t-shirt I like ("Prague: Czech it out"). Or when I read the newspaper (yeah, I still do that). I have a couple notebooks and Word Docs started with my favorite quips. I find myself adding to them constantly.

Consequently, I think of them frequently. I could take just about any topic and remember something Shakespeare, Mark Twain, Maya Angelou, or Nelson Mandela said in reference. Sometimes I fear my reliance on them to evaluate life is dangerous. Well, as dangerous as mental rabbit trails can be.

Still, I find myself drawn to them. Usually, I copy them with great (OCD-like) accuracy and include the proper attribution. Sometimes, however, I forget, or my writing is unclear, or I don't know who to give the credit to. A quick Google search will generally tell me who said it and why, so lately, I haven't cared much if I forgot to write down who said the particular piece of wisdom or wit I decided to transcribe.

I've included all that information because I found a post-it yesterday with an excellent quote:

(In case you are having trouble reading my writing it says "The problem with most people isn't that they set the bar too high and fail, but that they set the bar too low and succeed.")

I'm not sure when I wrote it (like I said, I do this frequently), although I can understand why it would have seemed important to do so. The words resonate with me. I get so caught up in meeting small, somewhat insignificant goals that I ignore the big ones. I'm good at the here and now. The long run seems insurmountable. I know I can substitute teach for a day, but I'm not sure I can get a job I really want/need. I find myself content with low standards. I like my petty triumphs too much.

But that's not what bothers me. Right now, at least, all I seem to care about is "Who said that?" I really need to know. Well, I don't need to know, but I really want to. An extensive search (via Google) has lead me nowhere. I tried to convince myself that something is true no matter who said it, but I have this unshakable desire for context.

Has anyone heard it before? I tend to think it was from a book, or a movie, or perhaps just a youtube video. Alas, I will have to be more cautious when writing these things in the future.

Acceptance (the good and the bad)

I find myself going back and forth regarding society's obsession with acceptance.

One the one hand, something should be said about loving people for who they are - flaws included. So what if my friend is a tad rude before noon? Who cares if my brother doesn't remember half the things I tell him? I can smile at my mother's constant stream of unsolicited advice because I love her.


Also, our perceptions need continual improvement - it's easy to judge when we don't understand. Differences are hard to ignore and often difficult to appreciate. We are too easily trapped by what we have grown accustomed to. Too quick to favor what we've seen since childhood. I wonder what beautiful things we would see if we weren't distracted what makes them dissimilar.

                However

Sometimes I hate when popular opinion forces me to accept everyone. Giving every personality, every lifestyle, every outlying theory automatic validity simply because it exists is foolish. People have gotten too good at justifying selfish habits, supporting ludicrous claims, and building a defense for every character flaw they have.

People have learned to thrive on acceptance, because it relieves them from feelings of guilt. We act as though guilt is an enemy to truth, when often it is the light we need to see it. I can eat all the cookies I want if the guy who loves me is willing to accept my being overweight. I suppose this point is what makes love and acceptance to very different things. We can love someone without accepting their faults. We love them by urging them to improve. Isn't that the point of relationships? We learn from one another. We grow. We change.

Acceptance dispels the need for action. It just makes us feel better. It alleviates discomfort.

Love - the kind that withholds judgment, but speaks up when it sees someone faltering - is what society needs, not acceptance.


To borrow a quotation from Junebug: 

God loves you just the way you are. But He loves you too much to let you stay that way.

Let forgiveness beat your anger (please)

One morning, my grandpa and I were watching a televangelist lecture on the dangers of anger (strange, I know), and he turned to me and inquired "I don't think I've ever seen you get angry, do you?" I shook my head, shrugged my shoulders and answered "not really." That calm summer morning, I realized just how temperate my nature was.

I'm not an angry person - you will have to push several buttons on an already bad day if you want to get a rise out of me. But even then, my wrath won't last long. Still, I found myself irritated this week as I watched the various stages of a ridiculously drawn out argument. I felt their anger start to rub off on me, and I had to work hard not to join the fray.

Whenever I caught glimpses of their argument - I thought about how easy it would be for them to reconcile. If either person asked for forgiveness (because both were in the wrong) the strife would end. Instead, they decided to remain angry, held fast to the unhelpful position of "I'm in the right," and made us (the ones unfortunate enough to have witnessed the exchange) walk on eggshells.

I'm not sure how the quarrel ended - probably by a few mumbled "I'm sorry's" or maybe nothing at all - maybe they just got tired of bickering and moved on. Nevertheless, it got me thinking about the importance of forgiveness.

Most people think forgiveness happens like the time in grade school after that guy who tripped you was forced by the teacher to repeat the words "I'm sorry" in your general direction and you, standing straight and lifting you chin said, "that's okay." I suppose in some small, pathetic way that is forgiveness. But true absolution starts in the heart of the hurt long before it's requested. Pardon should be readily accessible so as to remove any barriers hindering a relationship.

Why cling to anger, when you could forgive and move on?

Said Alexander Pope

What class am I teaching today?

My current job title is a substitute teacher - I don't think I've said that before. I prefer to sub for high school students, but my bills tell me to accept anything offered. So, this week I taught some not-quite-kindergartners, some 3rd graders, and some high school students. (I also filled in for a janitor, but who wants to talk about that?)

First, the adorable 5 year olds. Well, mostly adorable. The class was actually labeled "developmental" kindergarten, which (I think) means they weren't quite ready for real school. They're the ones who haven't figured out how to write their names, struggle when counting higher than 10 (we definitely hit a wall there), or can't sit calmly during story time, etc. Anyone who knows me will recognize this isn't my area of expertise. Still, they made me laugh - "Teacher, look at the pretty zebra!" she says as she holds up a book about alligators. Yes, there was a zebra, but it was in a green mouth and nearly underwater. Pretty wasn't a word I would have used. Then, they made me shake my head in exasperation as one kid got all the others to repeat the word "poop" in a kind of prebathroom cheer. And they made me find my inner-mother and comfort the child who ran out to recess only to fall down and hit his head on a slide. One of many crying episodes, I'm afraid. I had to take a nap when I got home.

Then, I taught some 3rd graders - I suppose you could call it a promotion. Some were incredibly sweet, but all were whiny. It didn't help that sickness seems to have hit the school early and 2 went home sick. One threw up all over the bathroom before heading out. I let 4 others go down to the office for temperature checks. The rest felt good enough to talk over every lesson. I think the only time I had complete control was during read-aloud time. And I don't even like Charlotte's Web. My favorite thing about 8 year olds, however, is how suddenly everything hits them. When they figure out what I want them to do in Math - their faces light up and they just have to interrupt class to say "I got it!" When they kick a ball over the fence, it's a big surprise, even though they had come close 3 times before. When their friend says "I'm going to punch you," they still act surprised at the follow-through (we had a discussion after that incident). Ah, to live in the moment once more.

Finally, high school. I got to teach some English lessons today (my field). :) I tried to inspire some poetry, worked through a section of Beowulf, reassured them that To Kill a Mockingbird really was worth reading, and administered a practice essay test. These are things I know how to do. But after having an enormous amount of interaction with the shorter pupils of previous days, I was disappointed by how quiet high school students can be when they aren't discussing football games, who their dating, or Justin Bieber. It was pathetic. Apparently Grendel isn't impressive enough as far as monsters go. It seems Sparknotes is sufficient when studying racial tension in the South. And poetry is for emo's and they're more like hipsters. They would rather plan a banner for homecoming week. I wanted to find a soap box and tell them the importance of all the above, but the bell was about to ring.

I realize there may not be immediate gratification for these assignments, but couldn't you at least try to care? I don't understand.

Some day I'll get a classroom of my own and figure out how to inspire interest in great literary works, but until then, call me if you're feeling sick.

Validation and Gratitude

I haven't included a video before, but this one is a favorite and works well with what I have to say today. It's a short film, so if you don't have 16 minutes - come back when you do.  If you're one of the 4 million people who have already seen it - don't you want to watch it again? (I would also like to give a little shout out to Bones which starts back up again tomorrow!)



Among other things, this video demonstrates the power of a compliment. I used to believe I didn't need them and that I should be able to do meaningful things without people reassuring me. But I was wrong. I thrive on compliments. I melt when a guy says I have pretty eyes. I often doubt myself and hesitate to do something without support. And while I don't need reassurance to do what is right - I constantly look for it when I going about those daily activities which seem morally neutral.

Like blogging

I started out thinking I would be comfortable posting even if no one read this blog, ever. I just wanted to start writing. But as you have started reading and started commenting - I have been given a wonderful sense of connection. I guess what I'm trying to say is thank-you. I'm grateful for the chance to share these little thoughts.

Thanks for the validation.

Life - tragedy or comedy?

Horatio "Horace" Walpole once said, "Life is a tragedy for those who feel, but a comedy to those who think." Little did he know how often people would state and restate his epigram.

You've probably never heard of dear Horace even though he wrote several historical works, coined the word "serendipity," and is generally credited with inventing the Gothic novel. (He was also known for over-supporting corrupt monarchs, but I'm interested only in his literary achievements.)

Anyway, I did some research on him because I wanted to know why someone would say such a thing. At first, I assumed he was a feeler having a bit of a pity-party for himself, or a thinker laughing at a well-composed satire. But as it seems, Horace was decently balanced. And even though I appreciate the wit - I have to believe this particular quotation is misguided.

I would have expected Mr. (Sir?) Walpole to have recognized this either/or fallacy. Maybe he did, but ignored it. Life is neither a comedy nor a tragedy - it is a mixture of the sorrow that makes us stronger (or bitter), and the joy that lifts our spirits (or makes us complacent). If you think the world is tragic (as you might after hearing/seeing this moving piece of music), take a step back and look at a bigger picture - one where there are people working to make it better (like the songwriter and the artists spreading awareness).

One moment life looks tragic, another makes you laugh at it's comedy. Therefore, I confront the fickle-feeler in me with the knowledge that this life is not a logical fallacy and remind the detached analytical in me to be willing to feel sadness as well as happiness.

Just Doing It

On the right I've included a link to 43things.com. It's a goals site. A place where you make a list (up to 43 things) of what you want to do. You can cheer others and post regarding your progress. Not meaning to sound like an ad, but I loved using as a bridge to start writing more, start sharing more, and ultimately start blogging.

This summer I made it a goal to run/jog 50 miles. By nature I'm more of a walker - about 2 miles a day - but I knew to lose weight I needed to step it up. I decided to make myself start jogging. I had 3 months to do it and a sister who agreed to join me in my quest, so I felt pretty confident. And I made it through the first 25 miles just fine. Well, a lot of huffing and puffing, but all in all, I was on the right track. (so many unintended puns in this post)

Then the summer got busier. I did some traveling. My sister's work schedule changed so she couldn't run with me. My normal jogging place flooded. And I got out of the habit. I went from jogging 3 times a week, to jogging once every other week. My thoughts dwelt more and more on all the things I preferred about walking, and I started bemoaning all the things I hated about running.

Quick example: When you walk, people look at you, then lose interest and look away. When you run - people watch until you pass them, and probably continue to watch. Not all people, of course, but most. It's creepy. (To clarify, I don't stare, but when your peripheral vision is triggered by a person's head turn, you notice.) I've glared; I've ignored; I've started wearing sunglasses so I could steal glances and we wouldn't make awkward eye-contact - they also work to block my peripherals.

Anyway, during this period of low motivation, I came across a quote I recorded years ago. C.S. Lewis once said "Do not waste time bothering whether you 'love' your neighbor; act as if you did. As soon as we do this we find one of the great secrets. When you are behaving as if you loved someone, you will presently come to love him." I kept it because I liked what it said about love, but now I realize it transcends just one idea.

I took this picture while walking, you can't do that when jogging

If you want something done in your life. You need to do it. Then do it again. And when it gets so hard you don't think you will be able to keep going. Do it anyway. The habit comes later. Behave the way you wish you did, and your nature will follow. I finished those miles this morning and it felt great. No more do I dread waking up to run. Instead, I anticipate the sight of a beautiful morning sky, the feel of fresh air flowing through my lungs, and the sound of the steady cadence my shoes make on the ground.

Thoughts after painting my room

I know it looks busy, but I like being surrounded by books

I redecorated my room this week (see picture). I was going for classy, so even though I love color, I ended up going with a plain beige hue for the walls (although I am calling it white-chocolate mocha). While I was painting, organizing, hanging pictures, and doing everything else that goes with said process, a few ideas occurred to me. I record them here for you in a format reminiscent of report card comments.

1) Does not paint well with others - I found out very quickly that when I am painting a room, I want to do it myself. You can help me move heavy items, and perhaps give advice, but when it comes to painting - don't try to pick up a brush or roller and help. I am way too critical to appreciate it. When I paint, I go over and over my work to make sure there are no flaws. When you paint, however, I have to either fix it while your back is turned, try to let you know without sounding judgmental, or let it be. If you wish to remain friends, just don't try to help.

2) Is organized, but a bit cluttered - I have soooooo much stuff. The picture includes just 2 bookshelves of my things. I know I'm a bit of a pack-rat, but where did this stuff come from? And now that I have become more environmentally conscious, I don't want to throw any of it away - I want to put it to use. Maybe I should take a trip to Salvation Army.

3) Easily distracted, needs better focus - I found the right bedspread (thanks Kohl's), painted  rather quickly, and arranged the bigger items in no time, but when it came to putting away all my books, trinkets, and other books, I was quite a bit slower.

4) Has matured since last quarter - While I was hoping to add some color to the walls, I couldn't come up with a properly subdued combo that wasn't overly cliched already (see red, black, and white). But the effect is what I wanted. My way of transitioning into the adult world. (My last room was pastel-themed and had an overabundance of hearts and stuffed animals - uplifting perhaps, but juvenile as well.)

Why I need . . . my little sister

I love ideas - probably a little too much. Whenever a new idea hits me, I am filled with wonder and excitement (well, an idea that is new to me since we all know there are no new ideas). I am quick to incorporate fresh thoughts into the schema I have already developed for this thing we call a world.

I am especially inclined to believe people I have deemed credible. If my dad says it - it's true. Several professors, authors, friends, and my pastor also have that privilege. But even if people aren't all that trustworthy, I still want to accept whatever they have to share. Some would call me gullible. I have learned to temper that trait by being slow to speak regarding new information - perhaps that's why I rarely retweet anything - or respond to comments on twitter in general. I have had to train myself to think critically. Still, I want to embrace every fresh thought I find and I am more than a little bit sad when something I believe to be true turns out to be a sham (see mythbusters).

My sister is different. Whenever she sees, hears, or through some other sense encounters a new concept, she looks for confirmation. If I tell her something, she says "where did you hear that?" and demands 3 credible sources. It's worse if she thinks you're wrong. She will fight to the death to defend what she "knows" to be true.

I used to hate that. Why can't she just trust me? I'm the older sister. I have almost 3 years worth of information more than her. Why does she have to disagree on everything? But then I realized - I needed her. She's my fact checker. My stabilizing force. If I'm wrong about something, I can trust her to call me on it. She has also taught me to hold to what I know to be true (be just as stubborn as her).

People have often been divided into either/or groups. Those who drink Pepsi or those who drink Coke. Those who prefer the Beatles or those who prefer Elvis. Those who take the road less traveled and those who take the road more frequently traveled. Those who count and those who can't.

I submit another division - those who embrace new ideas, and those who do background checks first. We need both types of people.

Taking action

I am not the kind of person others are drawn to - nor do I want them to be drawn. I have never felt comfortable putting myself out there (wherever "there" is). I dislike direct attention, and have no idea how to respond to a compliment. And yet, I do desire to be ... noticed. I want people to recognize my abilities without my intersession.

I don't understand the reasons, but even when I don't volunteer, I'm stupidly disappointed if people don't ask me to help. For example, throughout high school and college, teachers would ask for people to read things aloud. When the question was posed, a little voice inside me yelled "Pick me! Pick ME!" Of course, if you were to look my direction, you would see a girl with eyes cast downward and an expression too seemingly distant to want to read - let alone to have heard the request. All my outward behavior would tell you to pick someone else, but when you do - I (or the nerd in me) will feel a twinge of sadness.

I hate this tendency. I should be able to act without waiting for someone's cue. Sometimes people are too proud to ask, so how can I help when I am to proud to offer? I've accused many attention-starved individuals of being proud/egotistical, but here is an example of it in my life. Pride motivates my actions. It's almost worse than those ostentatious people because I not only want you to notice me, I want you see me without any prompting on my part. I think I am also trying to protect myself against blame. If I do poorly, I can always fall back on "well, you asked me for help." My reliance on the support of others is embarrassing.

If you haven't been to despair.com yet- go now!

After these ponderings, I make three resolutions. 1) I will muster up my courage more often and volunteer to help alleviate the needs of those around me. 2) I will no longer be annoyed by people who are always jumping to the center of attention, but rather smile at their natural boldness. 3) I will look for those like myself, and nudge them toward action.

A change in thinking

"The smallest good deed is greater than the grandest intention"

I recently heard this statement used and (for perhaps the first time) I believed its message.

Previously, I had been stuck on the implications of good intent - i.e. a good heart/soul or a person who recognizes right and wrong and wishes good's prevail. Who cares about a small, but good deed when anyone can do a few decent things from time to time without being truly "good".

But that isn't the point of the remark.

When we have good intentions, we can believe ourselves to be great, wonderful people, but those around us have no evidence. The casual onlooker would have no reason to think well of you. Thoughts don't catch on - actions do. Even the tiniest act of kindness can be a tangible example for the world to follow - rather than remain puffed up by all the wishes it thought about fulfilling.

Intentions are important when you want to be genuine, but if you want to make an impact - look around and do something great - even if it's just calling your mom to tell her you love her.

When the truth merely blinds

Before I write what I want to say - let me write a bit of a preface. I love truth. I am all about truth and telling people it's important - sometimes convincing people it exists (or at least attempting to convince). Without truth I would have no hope, this world would seem a purposeless wasteland. Okay, preface over.

Truth is often compared to light. It helps us see what we once could not. We don't like to journey into the unknown without it. But I have also found the truth blinding. It becomes a light so powerful we cannot avert our eyes. We lose sight of everything else because, at that moment, nothing else seems important.

People who fill themselves with nothing but truth often become as cold and blinding as the fluorescent bulbs at the dentist office. The Bible tells us Christ walked the earth full of grace and truth and the apostle Paul says to speak the truth in love. Truth is a beautiful thing when it is tempered with kindness and mercy, but a cruel and heartless belief when left alone.

Perhaps that's what is wrong with organized religion. It's cold because it merely thinks and acts rather than feels. Understanding isn't complete without empathy.

Yes, they have spoken accurately, but what are they ignoring while traveling down that tunnel of truth?

Not sure this one counts as a quote, but since it happened again . . .

"Close your eyes, and picture . . ." are the words I heard until I tuned out of a very cliche and consequently boring illustration. Sadly, I have (once again) been asked to close my eyes and picture myself in a ridiculous situation or somehow retrieve an image of the most important thing in my life. Every time someone has made such a request, I have been lost to my own ponderings. First, I dislike such practices because they leave me more vulnerable than I prefer. Second, I wouldn't be able to visualize any better (when I close my eyes, I can never "see" anything). And third, when I close my eyes I do not care what I see - I care what I hear, smell, feel, and already know (most of all, what I know). Without my sight, I am left with understanding, and sight is no longer important.


So why ask? I suppose many people must close their eyes because this world is so distracting. Picturing a specific image is difficult when we are bombarded with the hundreds present in every room. When we close our eyes, our reality fades into the background and we become more aware of ourselves. But I still don't appreciate having to close my eyes to the hundreds of objects around me in order to remember or imagine one specific thing. When you ask me to close my eyes, you cater to my inability to focus. Concentration is a skill to be learned in every situation - not just the ones we so carefully contrive.




Why do you ask me to see with my eyes closed, when you should ask me to understand - even though my eyes are open?






Bonus quotation (or rather, one I do not believe I could post about, but love anyway): "Bad things do happen; how I respond to them defines my character and the quality of my life. I can choose to sit in perpetual sadness, immobilized by the gravity of my loss, or I can choose to rise above the pain and treasure the most precious gift I have - life itself." - Walter Anderson