"No one has ever seen my moves."

(Title from the movie Safety Not Guaranteed)

Hipster.

What's the first thing that pops into a mind when this word is read?

Pathetic is what usually pops into mine.

I've always thought about bad connotations in correlation to this word.

Funky dress, weird hair, can't like anything that anyone else likes, moody temperament, et cetera.

But here's the thing, I'm a hipster.

Funky dress = I decided about a year ago that I was going to stop dressing how everyone expected me to dress. I wasn't going to change my whole closet every time a new trend showed up at Forever 21. I was going to dress in a way that made me feel confident. I've always had issues with self confidence and insecurity; why fuel that fire with dressing in a way where I wasn't comfortable? The other day, I really wanted to wear this one shirt, and I wanted to feel pretty so I wore a skirt and my favourite brown wedges. When I came out of my room to go to work, my roommate saw me and smiled. "That outfit would straight up look ridiculous on anyone but you," she said. And I felt awesome the entire day. I may not always match the way society says I should match or wear the "latest" fashion, but I wear clothes that I want to wear because I want to wear them.

Weird hair = I've always wanted to be that girl with the long, wavy brown hair that can just be thrown up in a messy bun or intricate braid. I tried to be that girl for awhile. And I hated it. I always felt like my hair was gross and weird and I just hated it. I would cut it and hate it so grow it out only to hate it more. Then one day about two years ago, I went to a hair dresser on a whim and said cut it all off. I've had short hair ever since. I know it's counter-culture of the "pretty girl" to have short hair; most girls who are beautiful today have long, curly hair, or at least a cute shoulder length cut. I have hair that my hairdresser here affectionately tells me I need to put product in to make it feminine or it will be a man's hair cut. But I'm okay with this. Because short hair gives me confidence. I may look odd with it sometimes, but I know there are days where I rock it. And I'm okay with that now. I don't need to have a "pretty girl" haircut to feel pretty.

Can't like anything that anyone else likes = this is where I really get hipster. I genuinely do like a lot of things no one else likes. When I watch a movie, I always pick the nerdy, lonely, pathetic guy to call dibs on. Ask my friend and they will vouch for me on this. One of my best friends told me I had to see Pitch Perfect, and that she knew exactly which guy I'd like the best, but she wasn't going to tell me until after I saw it. I called her after I did and the first thing she asked was which guy I liked. I told her the lonely magician who no one really likes but turns out to be cool in the end and she screamed I KNEW IT into the phone. I eat oatmeal as a snack when I get home from work. I would rather have apple juice than beer. I cry at those sappy Kay jewelry commercials, every freaking time. I sleep with my teddy bear Rosecheeks and a stuffed version of Little Foot every night because I have to cling to something as I fall asleep and they keep me sane when the lights go out. I watch random and obscure British movies because that's how my parents raised me, not because I want to be cool. And yes, I liked Regina Spektor before a lot of people and don't listen to her anymore but that's because I always move on and get obsessed with new things. Just ask my family. I don't do these kinds of things to be cute or get attention like some girls I went to college with. I do them because that's who I am and I never knew it was dorky.

Moody temperament = this is something I've struggled with ever since high school. I jokingly like to tell myself it's just because I read too much Sherlock Holmes and try to copy him. But it's true. Some days I am probably the most annoyingly cheerful person you will ever meet (I'm channeling my inner Arthur from Cabin Pressure on these days). Some days I am dark and write stories with serial killers and twisted humour where a man keeps failing at suicide which makes him more depressed which makes him want to kill himself even more. Some days I am a complete and total hopeless romantic (this is where the crying at Kay commercials kicks in). Some days I tell myself I never ever ever want to be in another relationship ever (this is normally when I've thought about exes too much or just realize that no man will ever compare to Rory Williams from Doctor Who). Some days I need to be around people in order to breathe. Some days don't come near me or I will run away from you because I can't be near people because they suck. I try harder than most people realize to be consistent in my daily life and not change how I act from one day to another. The same best friend I mentioned earlier who told me to see Pitch Perfect had a rule when I was in college that I had to call her when I would catch myself just literally staring at my white wall for hours at a time, and the reason I would stare at the wall like this is because I was angry at myself, trying to figure out why I am the way I am. I'm not writing any of this to sound pathetic, believe me. It's all 100 % percent honest and it's taken me the entire time I've had a blog to be honest like this (which is saying a lot seeing as I have four whole followers [yes that is me being sarcastic] [yes that was a parenthesis in a parenthesis]).

What am I getting at with all this jibber jabber?

I'm not really sure to be honest.

Maybe I do.

Maybe I'm just trying to get my feelings worked out in my head and the best way I know how to do that is to write them down. Maybe I'm trying to say that I am a hipster and whatever, that doesn't make me pathetic because I'm only pathetic when I let that word become who I am.

You know that saying sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me, and everyone always tells you it's wrong because words can hurt? Words can hurt. I know that I know that I know that words are the most powerful thing in the world. But words don't have to control us. A single word can never define a human being. Ever. I don't care if you're white or black or gay or straight or single or taken or a murderer, none of those one words defines who you are. Even someone as messed up as Hitler doesn't deserve to be completely summed up with the word Holocaust. He was complex. He was messed up and horrendous, yes, but he was other things too.

Okay.

I realize it sounds like I just compared myself to Hitler. It's late is the only excuse I can come up for that one.

I've probably just taken being called a hipster the other day and turned it into the most dramatic thing ever, but, well, that's the hipster in me coming out.

The point I am trying (or failing) to make is that yeah. I fall into the hipster category. But does that make me pathetic?

Freaking no.

It's just one part of what makes me me.

And on my good days, I'm pretty confident in me.

Which is kind of awesome.

Not talking and doors shut are great, let's keep it up.

When you don't say a word when you come home, I don't know what that means. I suspect it means either I've done something to piss you off, or work has you irritated.

When I say hello and you mumble a hey before going into your room and shutting the door, I don't know what that means. It begins to confirm my suspicions that you are pissed at me for some reason.

When you think I'm on the couch but hear me in the kitchen so you deliberately turn around and don't walk into the kitchen like I know you were about to just do and walk back into your room, I don't know what that means. My suspicions that you are angry at me are building.

When I take the food I've cooked for tomorrow out of the oven and leave it sitting on the oven to cool, then come back into the living room, so you run out of your room and into the kitchen and then loudly say, "Seriously? Wow," before grabbing a beer and running back into your room and slamming the door behind you, I do in fact know what this means. It means I have pissed you off. Seeing as I have not seen you all day and I have cleaned the kitchen, loaded and unloaded the dishwasher, taken the trash and the recycling and taken all of my clutter from the living room into my room because I know it annoys you when I leave it in the living room, I am racking my brain to think of what I have done to piss you off so horribly.

The only conclusion I can come to is that my food cooling before I stick it in the fridge for tomorrow has pissed you off. I know what you're thinking; how could that have pissed you off?

Well, I'm back to where I started. I don't know.

I suppose I have a hard time reading your mind. Please forgive me for that, I'll try to do better.

"The hero of Canton, the man they call me."

I can’t write.

I’m going through this phase right now where I can’t seem to get myself to read or write because all I really want to do is enjoy films.

I’m sure eventually I’ll get so inspired by all this film watching that I won’t be able to handle not writing or reading, but right now I just watch a really great film and just kind of sit in my room by myself and stare at the wall and think about how much I loved the film.

It’s not even that I have writer’s block, it’s that I just don’t feel like writing.

I keep making myself go to this little sandwich shop called Groucho’s on my day off and try to write or read, but I usually just end up Sherlocking (and by this I mean being nosy and guessing at someone’s life) the other people there, or listening to the conversations of the funny men who work here or just staring out the window.

It’s nice and peaceful and I always leave full because their sandwiches are kind of to die for, but not having been writing/reading productive.

This is an odd phase. I can’t remember the last time I was in one where I just didn’t feel like writing.

In other news, I’m not sure to have Adult Friendships. 

Some people who are close to being in their 30’s invited me to hang out with them the other day. I accepted because I’m tired of sitting alone at my apartment. We went to see a movie and then to this bar/restaurant for beers and I tried really hard to talk about Grownup Things, but most of the time I just sat there and smiled and listened to them talk about Grownup Things and wondered if it will always feel awkward to have Adult Incounters.

So after this, I called up my friend Ed who sometimes still acts like he’s in high school and we went to see the new James Bond movie and were giggly and childlike at the movies and it felt comfortable.

When is the age where I have to have only Adult Friends and I’m not allowed to go to the movies with a gay boy and pretend like he’s my date and watch people look at us confused because it’s obvious he’s gay but he’s being affectionate and giggle when the main characters of the movie start kissing passionately because we are 8 years old at heart? 

Well, everything in the world is all right when I watch this video. It's not very Grown Up, though. Oh well. 

Should I hold my beer all fancy like you?

Sometimes I think about myself when I'm 30 or 40 or 50 and I think about all the things that I could be doing and all the things I could be and all the awesome things I will achieve.

But I forget that I have to work to get those things.

I can't just expect to suddenly have a famous play on the West End. I would need to spend time in rehearsals but before that I would need to find actors but before that I would need to get a director to like my play but before that I would need to network to find people in the industry but before that I would need to move to London but before that I would need to arrange to move to England but before that I would need to save enough money to move to England but before that I would need to have graduated from at least a grad school but before that I would need to go to grad school but before that I would need to get into grad school but before that I would need to save money to go to grad school.

But before any of this, I would need to actually write a good play.

Instead I'm sitting in front of the television watching The Social Network wishing I was witty and blogging because I tried to write something and I couldn't even come up with more Firefly fan fiction.

I don't even wish I could just blink and be a playwright or casting director, I just wish I could stop having writer's block. Or at least stop using writer's block as an excuse for my laziness.

I know I just got a job and I'm getting used to be an Adult so I should probably cut myself some slack and realize that I'm working 45 hour weeks sometimes 6 days a week at weird hours and I'm trying to get myself in better shape and eat more healthily which takes a considerable amount of time out of the day. Along with trying to get used to a new town and find friends and be more than a recluse.

But I think I'm freaking myself out because I'm turning 23 and somehow in my mind that's one step away from 30 and I want to at least have achieved some kind of dream by the time I'm that old.

I hate it when my characters just want to become recluses and not do anything. Why are my characters a mirror of me? Where's the fun in that?

I hate writer's block.

"Expecting an epic ending, most underdogs end up not winning."

I wouldn't mind if my things were published or produced anonymously or with a pen name, or if I just sat in the very back of the theatre and wasn't allowed to tell anyone it was mine.

I really wouldn't.

Because when I watch a really great film or see a really great play or read a really great book or listen to a really great song, I feel inspiration with every second. And I know how wonderful that feels, how it's like breathing in the freshest air imaginable.

And I would feel like I've done something worthwhile if I could see the look on just one person's face when they left the theatre of my play or finished reading my short story. That look that tells me they are going to go home and create something wonderful themselves, be it a work of fiction or a piece of pottery or compose a song or even just knit a beautiful pair of socks, all because they saw my things and were inspired to create themselves.

That's all the fame I'd ever want.

"Of course it's you."

WARNING: the title here is from the episode of Doctor Who, when The Doctor opens his hotel room door and sees whatever scares him the most and utters these words. What follows here is a bit of a ramble about Doctor Who and how I strangely connect it to my relationship with God.

I just watched the last Doctor Who and I need to get this all out before I forget it and the feeling's past.

I'm choosing to believe that Amy finds Rory after both of them search for a long time and they know that they can get through anything together because they have gotten through everything together and that's how strong love is when it is pure and right and a good thing.

And I know that River will be all right because she knows how wonderful her parents truly were and that they loved her and would have done anything for her and she would have done anything for them and that's enough to get her through anything because love is that strong.

But I can't believe that the Doctor will be all right.

I know it's just a television show and Moffat is a crazy man with a pen and sometimes I don't know how he can bear his own mind because it must be a sad and wonderful and brilliant and depressing and intense thing for him to create things like Doctor Who and Sherlock. But I think even fiction has an element, or rather lots of elements, of truth to it.

We, each and every one of us, in some way or another, understand what the Doctor is going through because we have all lost someone through either anger or death or stupidity or just time passing and we know that we will never see them again while we're alive and maybe not even when we're dead.

But what I think absolutely broke my heart when watching the last episode was that I could feel the Doctor's pain so much more than I ever could. When he was screaming and begging Amy not to leave him, he wasn't just talking to her. He was talking to Rose and Donna and Martha and every companion he's ever had who have, for one reason or another, left him. And he was tired of being left and ultimately being alone.

Sometimes I think Sherlock had it right when Moffat wrote the line for him: "Alone is what I have, alone protects me."

Because we're ultimately alone in the end, anyways, right? No matter how hard we love or how often we love, or even how hard we hate or whatever, ultimately we die alone, right?

Wrong.

I cannot believe this is correct.

Sitting on Jennifer's couch in our living room, listening to beautiful and depressing music by Yo-Yo Ma, I refuse to believe that this is correct.

I know it's weird to turn a Doctor Who television episode that is not real life into something spiritual and relevant, but I guess I can't help it. That's just in my blood. So I'm sorry if it offends or you think that I'm being dramatic or making something into a big deal, but that's the only way my mind knows how to work.

What I got from this episode is what Doctor Who ultimately is; it's a story about a man who never dies and is ultimately alone and tries to pretend like this doesn't bother him but in the end it hits him in the face and he doesn't know how to deal with it.

But I do.

Because I know that no matter who dies or what happens to the world or how many depressing or romantic films I watch try to tell me, even when I'm completely and totally alone, I'm not alone.

Someone, Someone with a capital S, made me.

I didn't just appear on earth because my parents gave birth to me. I appeared because my Creator decided to make me.

And He's not just Up Somewhere eating popcorn and watching us all like we're a movie. He is active. He wants to interact with us.

Why else would anyone make something?

You don't make something to just do nothing and do nothing for you. No one has ever done that. You make something to please you.

He made me to please Him. But more than that, He made me to give me the choice to please Him or not.

And by His grace and making my brain somehow realize all of this, I choose to do that. I choose to believe that He is real and interacts with me in the most real way ever. I choose to believe that He created others for me to interact with as they please or choose to not please Him.

But as I'm writing this, I realize something else.

Not even He is alone. There are three of Him in His Oneness.

That means that He understands how horrible and deadly being truly alone is, so not even the Creator of all things, the Ultimate Master (to borrow a Doctor Who term) is alone.

The only way as a human being could ever not ultimately be alone is by choosing to please Him and invite Him to be in my life that He created.

I don't understand in this moment how anyone can consciously decide to not accept Him because they are ultimately alone and if the Creator cannot even be alone, how do they possibly think they can do it?

For a long time, I've thought of Hell quite differently than most people. I've not thought of Hell as being a fiery pit where Satan congregates all those who choose not to accept Him.

I've thought of it as complete and utter blackness. Aloneness.

I've thought that if you choose to ignore Him, He will actively still pursue you throughout your life because He doesn't want you to be in this blackness and aloneness. But when your life ends and you're still ignoring Him, there is nothing left for Him to do.

So because you said you didn't want Him and He won't change your mind for you, you get exactly what you asked for.

You get nothingness for forever. You are alone in blackness, completely void of everything God. Because it's what you chose.

The reason I think of this as Hell is because that is what scares me to the depths of myself. And that to me is what Hell should be.

Going back to Doctor Who, I wondered for a long time what I would see in my hotel room in that one episode where everyone's greatest fear is in their room. I thought maybe it would be a demonic horror movie or a room where bugs crawl all over me and I can never get them off or all the friends I've ever hurt congregating to talk about how terrible a person I am or something along those lines.

But I don't think any of that is what it would be.

I think if I saw my room, it would be a completely blank, dark, empty space with nothing. I think if I looked into my room, I would see this image of what I think Hell is. A place empty of everything God.

Thank God that He has given me a brain that realizes this and loves me in a way that surpasses Rory and Amy or River and The Doctor's love that He will give me every chance in life to avoid my hotel room.

I'm sorry for all of that. I know from getting on tumblr that this is probably not the response I'm supposed to have from watching Doctor Who.

I'm supposed to curl up in a little ball with my shock blanket and a tub of ice cream and weep and shout Moffat's name over and over again and have my friends pat my hand and say, "There, there."

I'm not supposed to watch it and think, "I cannot express how thankful I am to my Creator that He has given me the choice to avoid my hotel room of Hell."

Oh well.

I've never really thought normal, and I think this just proves it.

"You're the only reason I keep on coming home."

Funny how such little things can make one smile and remember that life is better now than it was five minutes ago.

Like a little kid's laugh when you look at them and smile and they just burst out laughing for no other reason than you smiled at them.

Or when someone tells you they miss you just because they miss spending time with you because you're you.

Or when you're lonely and suddenly you hear a cat scratching and meowing to get inside, and when you let them in, they curl up in your lap and promptly fall asleep purring their contentment.

Or when you're wondering why people hate each other so much and fight and kill each other, and then someone tells you they would literally do anything in the world, including lay down their own life, for their children and it makes you have faith again.

Or when you feel like there's no point to anything you do, and then someone tells you something you did or wrote or said made them laugh or cry when they needed it or inspire them.

Thank God that sometimes life is better now than it was five minutes ago.

"When someone remembers something I randomly mentioned or notices something small about me that I might not even know about that's just, yeah. It's really nice. Really really nice."

I forgot how nice the word friend is and how brilliant it is when people call you this word.

Especially when someone you didn't know was your friend but you very much wanted them to be introduces you to someone else as their friend. It sends a little shiver of delight up your spine and reminds you that you're not all that bad.

That if someone thinks you're fantastic enough to be their friend, you must be a little more than acceptable.

What a nice word, friend. We should use it more often.

"True love is the greatest thing in the world. Except for a nice MLT."

You know that movie Romancing The Stone, where Joan Wilder, played by Kathleen Turner, is writing one of her romance novels and she gets so wrapped up in it she's a crying mess because what she wrote is so romantically sappy and wonderful, and yet she's alone and has never even had that kind of romance?

I think I'm turning into a Joan Wilder.

Thank God I'm not turning into a romance novel-er, but, minus a few depressing beginnings to plays, most of the things I've written lately have been romantic and sweet and the kind of thing you expect to see in a Jane Austin novel or an episode of Downton Abbey.

I have very little to draw on from personal experiences, so I'm not exactly sure where all this is coming from. I've had the odd surely-this-is-the-boy-I'm-going-to-marry moments, but they were pathetic in comparison to anything real and genuinely loving. Maybe I'm just drawing on what I hope will eventually be reality.

I should combine all these romantic scenes I have and title them "The Ridiculously Romantic And Sappy Side Of A Silly Girl Playwright".

"Now don't forget to smile, darling." "Well which one? I've mastered three of them." - Hugo

It's one in the morning and I really should be asleep. But it doesn't really feel right to sleep right now.

I'm graduating tomorrow, but I don't think that's what's keeping me from sleeping. I think life is keeping me from sleeping.

I knew exactly what I wanted to do three years ago. I remember sitting on a park bench one night at Maryville College and knowing I should be a journalist and fight horrible things in the world with my words and inspire others to make changes.

I still want to do that, but I think maybe I've shifted a little, too.

Over four years at university, I've learned that more than anything else, I love to tell stories. I love to tell other people's stories. I love to listen to peoples' stories and write them down for others to read. But I've learned that there's more to telling stories than just being a good journalist.

To tell a story means to be an inventor as well.

I've always had a wild imagination, thanks to a love of reading and learning put into me at an early age by my parents. But I never thought that would get me anywhere as a kid. I'd write my silly stories about love and squirrels and death and magic, just like any other socially awkward and introverted middle schooler. But that was for fun.

And then I get to college and meet a wonderful woman named Stacey Isom who showed me that it's okay to be an inventive storyteller.

I'm probably strange, but taking creative writing classes made me aware of the stories I could tell of characters I meet in my mind, not just people I find for journalism articles.

I'm rambling, but in my defense, it is one in the morning.

I just love a good story. I love reading a good story in a book and watching a good story on film and writing a good story through characters and people I run into.

Maybe I'll still do all those journalistically things I decided I would do on the park bench. God only knows, I guess.

But maybe I'll get to tell other stories too. Maybe I'll get to introduce the world to some of the characters I live with every day in my mind.

Their stories deserve to be told, too.

"But you've been in college for, like, ever."

For one of my classes, we are reading this book called Becoming Adult, Becoming Christian by James Fowler. Most people in my class hate the book, but I'm that nerd that loves it and eats it up. 

We had to write a short essay on one chapter of the book that discusses different partnerships with God.  I wrote about this thing Fowler called “Partnership with God the Creator”.  In this partnership, we are, in a sense, working with God to bring about the work and excellence of his creation.   

This idea of partnering with God to make the world a better place appeals to me so much because I believe that God has entrusted us with His creation in such a way that He lets us take care of it in the hopes that we bring about His glory through the care we show in His creation.  From the very beginning of time, God put Adam in control of the Garden of Eden and told him to take care of the animals and plants.  The thing is, I don’t think that God just put us on earth to take care of His creation and then completely left us to do the work on our own; I strongly believe that if we admit we don’t always know how to best take care of His creation, He is able and willing to help us, thus the term “partnership”. 

This partnership with God also appeals to me because of the many connotations of the word “creation”.  In the text, Fowler writes about the different ways we create in this partnership with God, such as through technology, architecture, arts and science, and others.  The idea of creating both with and for God, taking the talents He has given me specifically and using them to further His Kingdom and make the world fruitful and worthwhile so strongly appeals to everything I believe.  

I don’t think we were just placed on earth to enjoy life, although I do think that is definitely part of it; I also think we are here to use the talents and gifts God bestowed upon us to make God’s creation the best it can possibly be.  When we realize this and accept this partnership of creation God is offering us, I feel that He is happy and smiling down upon His creation. 

Anyways, I was that nerd and was so excited to write a paper about this, I wrote two pages instead of the paragraph required, and still felt like I had more to say. 

I need to get out of school. It's turning me into some kind of nerd monster. 

"You are pretending! And that is acting."

I'm going to be in a play.

It's short, just under 10 minutes, and there are only two characters in the whole thing. But I'm still terrified. If I hadn't been asked on the spot and under pressure, I probably would have thought through it more and said no.

I'm taking a playwriting class this semester and I love it. I've discovered I love all forms of writing, and playwriting is so exciting because it changes so much.

My play is getting performed as well. I'm so excited to see my words performed, but I'm not really nervous about my play. I've learned to take criticism and change pretty well by now, so I'm not worried about them ruining it. I have complete faith in my actors.

But I'm terrified to act in this play, this sweet girl who has written beautiful words in a beautiful story. I will kill myself if I screw this up for her. I can't handle messing it up.

Maybe I'm just a little used to people not living up to everything I imagine them to be, but I can't handle not living up to someone else's expectations of me.

One good thing may come of this - I will probably lose weight because I'm far too nervous to eat.

"The most incredible thing, roses. They almost cover the stench of sin in this house."

I need to vent about incest for a moment. Apologies are profuse, I promise.

Just because a novel or a play is a "classic" and won every stinking award possible doesn't mean I need to feast my eyes on it.  Especially if it's full of mothers raping their sons and having babies by them, or daughters having sex with their dead father's corpse, or a mother finding sexual pleasure from breastfeeding her son, or a mother bathing her son until he's in high school, or cousins having a twenty-year affair.

How is this good literature?

I'm not trying to pretend that I'm the best follower of Jesus ever or so much better than the world. I'm not and I'm fully aware of that.  I'm not even trying to say that just because I go to a "Christian" institution, I shouldn't have to read this kind of material. I'm saying that I think that even if I didn't love Jesus, I would still hate reading about incest.

I know I'm a nerd. Books and the ability to read are blessings from God. And as such, I want to read things that are pleasing to him.

I don't think books about mother rapping their sons and then her husband getting mad when she gives birth to her son's baby so he drowns it and buries it in the backyard are pure and holy things to put before our eyes.

One more thing. I know I sometimes watch movies and telly shows I probably shouldn't, and even read things that probably upset Jesus.

But I didn't expect to be forced to read such material at a university whose motto is "We are a Christ-centered campus".

I am so glad I transfered to the institution that I am.  I'm proud to graduate from such an institution.  But things like this remind me that none of us, no institution, is perfect while we are on earth.

And I think my university needs to be humble and admit this every once and awhile.

If you're wondering, the title quote is from "Buried Child".

An interesting read, if you like incest.

Hey, remember that time we lived?

I'm not going to die.

I mean, yes I'll eventually die just like everybody.  Eventually I'll return to the dust just like everyone does. Eventually I'll be in front of the Person Who created me and maybe if I'm lucky I'll get some answers and maybe I won't and maybe that's okay because I think everything will be okay when you're no longer a human.

Maybe it's ludicrous to say I'm not going to die because my heart could stop beating right now and I could be done.

I once thought I would know when my time is up here because I'd accomplish something and then the universe and God would be like, "Yeah, that was awesome and worth it so she can move on now."

And then this person I knew named Jamie died.

It's not like I knew him his whole life or could talk about how he had accomplished some kind of ultimate goal or anything.  I knew him for a year.

But I think what bothered me for a long time after his death was thinking he wasn't done yet.  It was hard for me to get upset when I first heard about the accident that ultimately killed him because I knew he'd pull through because he wasn't done yet.  It was an accident and the universe and God hadn't given him permission to leave yet.

And then he left.

Awhile after he left, I read this book called The Fault In Our Stars.  It's about two people who have cancer and how they live their lives and why they live their lives.

Spoilers.

One of them dies.

It's terrifying because he does some amazing things and just lives his life and then dies and he is angry before he dies because he thinks maybe he won't leave a big enough mark on the world.

Here's what I think.

FDR left an impact on the world.  So did Gandhi.  So did Hitler  So did Elvis.  So did Jack Wilson.

Jack Wilson was my granddaddy.  Most people in the world don't and won't know who he is.

But I knew who he was.  My mom knew who he was.

He lived his life just like everyone did.  I remember him sometimes, but that's not what makes his life magically worthwhile.

I want to say things now, but I'm afraid of them being cheesy or like things you say to make yourself feel better.  That's not what I want.

What I want is to feel that it doesn't matter if you have a finished or unfinished life.  It doesn't matter what you didn't mark off your bucket list before you kicked it.

I can't be upset that I feel Jamie's life was uncompleted.  I can't be upset to think that if my lungs collapsed right now I was still at university and didn't get to "really live" my life.

I'm alive.  You're alive.  Some of us are not.  But they're not in nothingness.  I don't believe that.

I'm rambling a lot, I know.  I'm a writer, we do that a lot.  I'm also under medication, and the two combined is a bad thing.

Sometimes I'm really great with taking a thought and writing it out myself and making it mine, but I don't know how successful I was this time.

Here's what I was trying to say.  I'll quote from The Fantastic Flying Books Of Mr. Morris Lessmore: "If life is enjoyable, does it have to make sense?"

I'm sorry for the incompleteness of this entry.  But I guess that's realistic of life.

Hey, remember that time we lived life?

"Some men aren't looking for anything logical."

It's late.  And medication has been a good friend tonight.  Those are my excuses.

I don't understand a lot.  I don't pretend to understand a lot.  But I do understand the things I understand.  And I understand being used.

I understand it when you need money or when you're hungry because you haven't eaten today and you don't know if you'll be able to.  I understand it when you're jealous of fancy things or just want to get a break in life.  I understand it when someone comes along and you think they're great, but if they were just like you, you would hate them.

I understand you.  So why don't you even bother to understand me.

Understanding and caring are not one-way streets. You can't feed and replenish and help and give and love and feel on nothing in return.  We love because we're humans.  We love and I don't expect anything in return.  But you should feel the same way.

I know I have sucker written on my forehead, it's okay.  I know I've been blessed far beyond what I deserve and I've never had to worry about where I'm going to sleep tonight or when my next meal will be or if I have shoes.  I don't want you to worry about it either.

But what you don't understand is that there are other things I worry about.  I worry about being loved by someone other than my family (because they don't have a choice).  I worry about being so taken advantage of I don't have real friendships, just leaches.  I worry about getting killed tomorrow and not feeling like I've accomplished anything at all.  I worry about everyone leaving because so many people have left before.

I'm not trying to call names or point my fingers or stick my nose up in the air.  It's just two in the morning and I can't sleep and I need someone else to understand that even those who are thankful they have material possession and a family that's full of love still can need something from those who have no material possessions and no family.

In the end, my stuff and your stuff doesn't mean jack.  What we have together, the emotion and touch and compassion and smiles and trueness, that's what matters.

That I understand.

Geez, The Dark Knight at one in the morning will really do something to you.

"A man's gotta do what a man's gotta do / Don't plan the plan if you can't follow through."

I may not be much of a woman, but I do make a conscious effort to be one. 

Apparently men today think flirting with no real intentions and acting like 10 year olds and not being man enough to stand up for things (like women) is what a "real man" is supposed to look like.

I'll take singleness with a fictional character over that mess.

No boy can ever measure up to fictional characters.  Check. 

But that doesn't stop women from wishing boys could learn to grow up to be men, not just older boys.

"That song has emotions in it. Weird."

I love people who are in love with what they do. 

I had a conversation with my friend Bo The Trolley Driver the other day.  We talked about people who get stuck in their own lives and can't find a way to be happy in it.  I told him that I never wanted to get that way. 

I'm not dumb enough to think I'll get everything I want, or even anything I want.  I'm not dumb enough to even think I'll be half the things I think I want to end up being.

But I would like to know that I made the conscious choice to decide to do what I am happy in doing in everything.

My friend Kelsie and I had this great conversation two weeks ago and I'm still thinking about it, which goes to show how great a conversation it was.  She told me she picked the guy she is engaged to and she knows that it was her decision to marry him or not or be happy with him or not and she decided for herself what was right for her.

I want to know that even if I'm poor and living in a not-so-great apartment and don't have everything easy but I'm writing or doing what I decided was right for me, I'd be happy.  I want to know that even if I had to give up some of my own dreams because I met someone who cared enough to spend his life sharing it with me and make a worthwhile life with me, I'd be happy because it was my decision to give up to gain with him. I want to know that if I spent my life somehow changing the lives of others and that means I have to be alone, I'd be happy because I made the decision. 

 I don't want to feel stuck in my own life.  That is just pathetic.  And I think I've decided not to be pathetic.

I think Sherlock is proud of me for that.

Why you usin' them big words?

Why is it a sin to combine entertainment and education?

My reaction as well.

I was forced to take this really miserable class last year where, for a large portion of the class, we talked about the horrible dangers of television and how dare we show television to our children and Sesame Street is evil because it makes children think their teacher in school will be Big Bird (this is a direct quote from the book) and lots of other just wonderful things like this.

Moriarty is summing up my feelings for me.

I considered burning this book after I was forced to read it. I thought I would never have to deal with such stupidity again.

I was wrong.

I was alerted to attention in a class this morning when a professor spent his entire lecture talking both about this book and the evils of showing television to young children.

I really wanted to just stand up and walk out of class.

I have walked out of a class three times before in my life.  Once because a good friend of mine had died the day before and it was too much listening to him being talked about so casually during class. Once because a professor spoke very derogatory towards a film that is very close to my heart and when I said that I felt the film wasn't about what she was saying, but instead about seeing the potential in everyone and choosing to love instead of hate out of fear, she told me in very rude words that I was wrong and that my opinion didn't matter to her. And once because a professor who refused to call us by our names but instead called us by assigned numbers said we were all going to fail his class and he was glad because we were dumb seeing as how we had asked for a study guide.

Back to this class.

The evils of television make no sense to me.  And because I had heard this opinion and think it's unintelligent, I had no desire to hear it again.  So instead of sitting there and fuming, I just tuned out the professor and wrote out my own opinion. And this is what I said:

Why is a sin to combine entertainment and education?  If we combined them, maybe kids wouldn't be able to think of one without the other.  And that sounds like a good thing to me.

Maybe if we had children watching "The Magic School Bus" and "Reading Rainbow", we wouldn't have to worry about what our children were putting into their minds so much.

Children aren't as dumb as we make them out to be.  They know what's up and how things work.  Maybe they'll be disappointed Mrs. Frizzo isn't their school teacher, but at least they'll be more intelligent than the kids watching "Family Guy" and "America's Funniest Home Videos".

More to the point, why are we blaming children for their ignorance?  Let's blame the idiotic parents instead who should use protection or get their tubes tied if they don't know how to raise a child appropriately.

Behind every fat child is an obese parent. And beauty is ugly when it's dumb.

If we're going to be dumb enough to blame the media for all of our children's problems, let's just blindfold and close the ears of all children and never let them leave the house.  Or better yet, let's just not have kids anymore.  There are enough dumb people on the planet - if we're going to just keep producing stupid people, let's just stop breeding.

The most unintelligent thing we could think is that intelligence is something we just deserve.  It's something we earn and something we strive to achieve.  Intelligence is not something you get when you're born, but hopefully it's something you have when you die.

While she might laugh and deny it, my mother had an unspoken rule that we only watched television shows growing up that were educational.

I might be strange and a little socially awkward, but I like to think I have a descent amount of intelligence now.

"Do you really not know the earth goes aroud the sun?"

Fact: I've been in love with Sherlock Holmes since I was 14.

Truth: BBC does everything better, including interpret A. C. Doyle's Sherlock. 

Mystery:  Why Benedict Cumberbatch and I aren't best friends.

I'm so proud of BBC for putting little things in their movies that are snippets of Doyle's work that only nerdy Sherlockians like myself would catch, such as Sherlock not knowing that the earth goes around the sun. 
His reasons for not knowing this is that it is useless.  And at first I agreed with John that Sherlock should know this.  After all, it's an important fact.  Right? 

But he's right.  How is this important?  If we went around the moon, would we notice a difference?  Well maybe it is important to know this, but it seems more important to know other things. 
Such as - I'd rather Sherlock know how to show mercy and love than to know about the solar system.  You can't really change and make a person's life better by telling them we go around the sun, but you can if you love them.

I think that's why I love Doyle's Sherlock.  He learns to love as the stories continue.  While BBC doesn't show this, at least in the first three episodes, Doyle shows it well.  Even Sherlock, in his age and wisdom, realizes that going through life merciless and loveless is meaningless.

Maybe that's why I love him so much.  He teaches me, in some odd sort of way, the importance of love.