Monday, May 17, 2010
Wow, life is really getting complicated. I am so indecisive and confused. I also feel so alone. I know that I brought it on myself but that still doesn't change how I feel. I have been praying for guidance but I don't seem to be getting it. Everyone in Wisconsin says that I should stay here. Everyone in Nebraska says that I should go there. I am so torn because I don't want to let anyone down but I can't make a decision without hurting someone. Then on top of it all, I am still dealing with a broken heart and it hurts so bad. Some days are good, I only cry maybe twice. Others suck because all I do is cry. I gave all of myself to him and he just didn't seem to care. He broke my spirit and crushed my ability to believe in myself. Then he told me that it was never meant to happen because he had loved someone else all along. I feel small and insignificant. He still calls though all the time and I can't seem to hang up the phone. I am still sucked into this twisted mess and I want so desparately to get out but I just don't see how I can. I still want to talk to him for some stupid reason. I want to make him feel better while all the while he is crushing me a little more each day. He is being sweet to me now. Telling me he is sorry and I don't deserve to be treated the way he treated me. He just doesn't get that he is breaking my heart. I know you think I am stupid because I won't just end the whole thing but I just can't do it on my own. I am so afriaid that if I somehow let myself get away then I will be truly alone. I am so so tired of all the pain.
Friday, May 14, 2010
Well. . .
Well I have decided to start writing on my blog. I have been told that it helps to destress. so here it goes. . . Life has been really hard lately. I have felt like I have lost my way. For awhile I thought I was just going to keep spiraling out of control and never stop. I had given up the control in my life to something I thought was what was meant to be. that is laughable. the only thing that is meant to be I realized is what I make of my life and where I go with it. I can't let anyone direct my life because they don't know where I am going. They don't know what makes me truly happy. I don't even know that yet. What I do know is that I am going to make the best out of my life. I am going to get the confidence I once had back. I am going to find happiness. I will no longer let the fear of failure and heart ache stop me from getting what I want because I know that I am strong enough to handle whatever comes my way. I just needed to remember that.
Thursday, December 24, 2009
Christmas Eve and Political Agendas
Well, today is Christmas Eve and all the roomies are off with their respective families. Heather has made her journey to Texas with the ultimate destination of New Zealand. I am at home just sitting enjoying the quiet. My family is all spread out this Christmas, so no big family get together for me this year. Don't worry, I have a place to go, I am going to one of my friends house for Christmas dinner. It is going to be wonderful. I am sure of it! I love the holiday season and it should be a time of rest, relaxation, and the rememberance of Our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. However, it seems that the people who are trying to destroy our country's very foundation are hard at work. Today the Senate passed a part of Obama's healthcare bill. This is a very scary fact. It means that socialized healthcare is one step closer to becoming a reality. Then it is the beginning of the end for our great democracy, soon our nation will fall into to grips of socialism and our government will control everything we do. This is not what we want! This is not freedom! This is not what America was founded for! America fought for her independence to get away from this very idea. How have we allowed for this to happen? WE MUST make a stand and let our government know that WE DO NOT agree. People please start speaking out. Let our voices be heard and WE CAN change the course of OUR Nation's future!
Have a Merry Christmas and remember to start NOW because tomorrow maybe to late!
Have a Merry Christmas and remember to start NOW because tomorrow maybe to late!
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
Share the Christmas Spirit
William J. Ctibor, “When Christmas Changed My Heart,” Ensign, Dec 2009, 31–33
Our efforts to save face blessed us and others.
Charley came over to Tom and me and dared us: “If I switch toys, will you?” Charley was a star athlete and the most popular guy in school, so foolishly we accepted his dare.
Four large boxes, one for each of the classes, had been placed in the middle of our large California high school campus. The boxes were for the toys each class had been challenged to collect for our annual Christmas toy drive for needy children. The winning class earned points toward the “Class of the Year” competition. Anyone caught switching toys—taking a toy from one box and putting it in another—would cause his or her entire class to be disqualified from earning points.
Charley led the way, taking a toy from one box and blatantly tossing it in the senior class’s box. Tom and I tried to make our switches inconspicuously, but someone saw us and reported us to the principal. The next morning we were summoned before the student council and confronted by the principal. Shamefaced, we slowly nodded when he asked if we had switched the toys.
Later that morning, an announcement went out over the public address system to the entire campus: “Due to the switching of toys by two members of the senior class, seniors are no longer eligible to earn points in the toy competition.” We had not been named, and we had hoped to remain anonymous. But news traveled fast among the 3,500 students. The students from other grades sarcastically complimented and thanked us, but we had definitely become unpopular with our fellow seniors.
After school, we dejectedly sat on Tom’s couch and discussed what we should do to try to turn the situation around. We put on our critical thinking caps for probably the first time in our lives. Finally we came up with a brilliant idea. Since the principal had invited the seniors to continue to bring toys to school, that was what we would do.
The last day of the toy drive coincided with the last day of school before Christmas break, which was three days away. Tom and I would go into the neighborhoods around our school and spend the next three nights collecting toys.
Going door to door for hours on end was very hard work. Families with children usually had a toy to give us. Elderly people usually had nothing for us. But two events caught us off guard.
One elderly gentleman, who said that his only son had been killed in the Korean War, asked us to wait a moment and left us standing at his front door. He soon came back and handed us $100. “I’ve never seen you boys before,” he said, “and for all I know you’ll spend this money on yourselves, but my contribution is intended to be used as a memorial to my son.”
We were speechless, which was unusual for us. We immediately headed for the Whittier Downs Mall, and 15 minutes later we were talking to the manager of a toy store, explaining what we were doing. Before we knew it, we had three very large bags of toys he sold us at a discount. Excited, we headed right back to the elderly man’s house to show him we had done as he wished. He cried as he shook our hands.
The next evening, at another home, Tom and I were greeted by a much younger man who seemed taken aback when we explained what we were doing. He invited us in and then excused himself to go get his wife. After what seemed like a very long time, he came back with his wife and a large box of toys. His wife was crying.
The man introduced his wife to us and with great difficulty he softly said, “Thanks for being patient with us. I know you must feel ill at ease with the way we are behaving, so let me explain. A year and a half ago our three-year-old son passed away from leukemia. We would like to give you his toys. It’s hard, but we feel it’s the right thing to do.”
Tom and I were inclined to refuse their offer, but they were insistent. As we drove away, they stood on their porch, arms wrapped around each other, watching us.
On the third and final night, we found ourselves standing before a pile of toys that almost filled Tom’s single-car garage. It took two trips with two cars to get all of the toys to school the next morning. We began long before dawn, and when we were through, the senior class toy collection box was perched atop a pile of toys that dwarfed the other classes’ contributions. It still didn’t qualify for points, but the senior class honor had been restored.
After all the excitement, by the time Christmas Eve arrived, Tom and I were once again sitting on his couch, intensely bored. I was about to go home when Tom’s father appeared wearing the most spectacular Santa costume I had ever seen. “How do I look, fellas?” he asked. Before we could overcome our astonishment and reply, we heard the deep rumble of a powerful diesel engine, and a brand new fire truck pulled up in front of the house. Covered with a net, a pile of beautifully wrapped presents filled the truck.
Tom’s dad jumped in, climbed up to roost high above the mammoth vehicle, and the truck lurched forward. Suddenly, our day was no longer empty. I yelled at Tom, “Quick, let’s follow them.”
At first I thought they must be headed to the Whittier Downs Mall to play Santa for the lucky, privileged kids there. But with lights blazing and siren wailing, the fire truck turned off the main highway and into Old Pico, a four-block square of leaky wood-slat shacks occupied by migrant farm workers and their families. With a whoosh of air brakes the truck stopped and Tom’s dad climbed down. A host of excited children gathered from all directions, their parents watching from a distance as their little ones rejoiced over their gifts.
As the scene played out, many thoughts ran through my mind. My perception of Tom’s father took on a new aspect. Here was a man who possessed little himself yet was giving what he could. I saw thankful parents who must have been agonizing over providing basic necessities, much less Christmas presents, shedding tears of joy for their children. I considered for the first time how children must feel when Santa forgets them.
Frankly, until then I had been pretty full of myself. Our whole effort to gather the toys had been focused on restoring our social standing. But those experiences with the generosity of grieving parents, along with what I saw in Old Pico, began to soften my heart and turn my view outward. I realize now that it all helped prepare me to seriously consider and accept the gospel when I heard its message a few years later.
That evening when I asked Tom’s dad where the presents came from, he was puzzled. “You mean you don’t know?” he said. “They came from the toy drive at your school.”
We watched in amazement as the fire truck parked and children gathered from all directions.
They sorrowed for their lost child, but his toys could bring joy to others.
I love this story! It is found in the December Ensign. I know that there are many christmas stories that convey the message of the season. I, however, connected very strongly with this one and figured I would share it with y'all. I hope that it brings you the Spirit of Christmas and makes you realize the reason for the season. May your days be merry and bright. Merry Christmas!
Our efforts to save face blessed us and others.
Charley came over to Tom and me and dared us: “If I switch toys, will you?” Charley was a star athlete and the most popular guy in school, so foolishly we accepted his dare.
Four large boxes, one for each of the classes, had been placed in the middle of our large California high school campus. The boxes were for the toys each class had been challenged to collect for our annual Christmas toy drive for needy children. The winning class earned points toward the “Class of the Year” competition. Anyone caught switching toys—taking a toy from one box and putting it in another—would cause his or her entire class to be disqualified from earning points.
Charley led the way, taking a toy from one box and blatantly tossing it in the senior class’s box. Tom and I tried to make our switches inconspicuously, but someone saw us and reported us to the principal. The next morning we were summoned before the student council and confronted by the principal. Shamefaced, we slowly nodded when he asked if we had switched the toys.
Later that morning, an announcement went out over the public address system to the entire campus: “Due to the switching of toys by two members of the senior class, seniors are no longer eligible to earn points in the toy competition.” We had not been named, and we had hoped to remain anonymous. But news traveled fast among the 3,500 students. The students from other grades sarcastically complimented and thanked us, but we had definitely become unpopular with our fellow seniors.
After school, we dejectedly sat on Tom’s couch and discussed what we should do to try to turn the situation around. We put on our critical thinking caps for probably the first time in our lives. Finally we came up with a brilliant idea. Since the principal had invited the seniors to continue to bring toys to school, that was what we would do.
The last day of the toy drive coincided with the last day of school before Christmas break, which was three days away. Tom and I would go into the neighborhoods around our school and spend the next three nights collecting toys.
Going door to door for hours on end was very hard work. Families with children usually had a toy to give us. Elderly people usually had nothing for us. But two events caught us off guard.
One elderly gentleman, who said that his only son had been killed in the Korean War, asked us to wait a moment and left us standing at his front door. He soon came back and handed us $100. “I’ve never seen you boys before,” he said, “and for all I know you’ll spend this money on yourselves, but my contribution is intended to be used as a memorial to my son.”
We were speechless, which was unusual for us. We immediately headed for the Whittier Downs Mall, and 15 minutes later we were talking to the manager of a toy store, explaining what we were doing. Before we knew it, we had three very large bags of toys he sold us at a discount. Excited, we headed right back to the elderly man’s house to show him we had done as he wished. He cried as he shook our hands.
The next evening, at another home, Tom and I were greeted by a much younger man who seemed taken aback when we explained what we were doing. He invited us in and then excused himself to go get his wife. After what seemed like a very long time, he came back with his wife and a large box of toys. His wife was crying.
The man introduced his wife to us and with great difficulty he softly said, “Thanks for being patient with us. I know you must feel ill at ease with the way we are behaving, so let me explain. A year and a half ago our three-year-old son passed away from leukemia. We would like to give you his toys. It’s hard, but we feel it’s the right thing to do.”
Tom and I were inclined to refuse their offer, but they were insistent. As we drove away, they stood on their porch, arms wrapped around each other, watching us.
On the third and final night, we found ourselves standing before a pile of toys that almost filled Tom’s single-car garage. It took two trips with two cars to get all of the toys to school the next morning. We began long before dawn, and when we were through, the senior class toy collection box was perched atop a pile of toys that dwarfed the other classes’ contributions. It still didn’t qualify for points, but the senior class honor had been restored.
After all the excitement, by the time Christmas Eve arrived, Tom and I were once again sitting on his couch, intensely bored. I was about to go home when Tom’s father appeared wearing the most spectacular Santa costume I had ever seen. “How do I look, fellas?” he asked. Before we could overcome our astonishment and reply, we heard the deep rumble of a powerful diesel engine, and a brand new fire truck pulled up in front of the house. Covered with a net, a pile of beautifully wrapped presents filled the truck.
Tom’s dad jumped in, climbed up to roost high above the mammoth vehicle, and the truck lurched forward. Suddenly, our day was no longer empty. I yelled at Tom, “Quick, let’s follow them.”
At first I thought they must be headed to the Whittier Downs Mall to play Santa for the lucky, privileged kids there. But with lights blazing and siren wailing, the fire truck turned off the main highway and into Old Pico, a four-block square of leaky wood-slat shacks occupied by migrant farm workers and their families. With a whoosh of air brakes the truck stopped and Tom’s dad climbed down. A host of excited children gathered from all directions, their parents watching from a distance as their little ones rejoiced over their gifts.
As the scene played out, many thoughts ran through my mind. My perception of Tom’s father took on a new aspect. Here was a man who possessed little himself yet was giving what he could. I saw thankful parents who must have been agonizing over providing basic necessities, much less Christmas presents, shedding tears of joy for their children. I considered for the first time how children must feel when Santa forgets them.
Frankly, until then I had been pretty full of myself. Our whole effort to gather the toys had been focused on restoring our social standing. But those experiences with the generosity of grieving parents, along with what I saw in Old Pico, began to soften my heart and turn my view outward. I realize now that it all helped prepare me to seriously consider and accept the gospel when I heard its message a few years later.
That evening when I asked Tom’s dad where the presents came from, he was puzzled. “You mean you don’t know?” he said. “They came from the toy drive at your school.”
We watched in amazement as the fire truck parked and children gathered from all directions.
They sorrowed for their lost child, but his toys could bring joy to others.
I love this story! It is found in the December Ensign. I know that there are many christmas stories that convey the message of the season. I, however, connected very strongly with this one and figured I would share it with y'all. I hope that it brings you the Spirit of Christmas and makes you realize the reason for the season. May your days be merry and bright. Merry Christmas!
Blog Started, Now what?
I have started this blog because everyone in my apartment was starting blogs so I did. If you are interested in my blog then start following me and I will add more interesting things. :) Just comment on what you want to see on my blog. . .
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