Good morning, Heartache

So here's the deal about heartache.

I've been through it before. I know it gets better. Life goes on. But, you know, sometimes I don't want to be told that. Who wants to be told something they already know?

Sometimes you just want to be sad. You want to wallow for a day...or week. The sadness comes and goes. Your mood changes. Sometimes the song of the day is something sad by The Weepies, and sometimes it's something upbeat by Snow Patrol.

For me, there was a lot of Snow Patrol those first two weeks. Then there were bouts of non-stop The Weepies, Jessie J's "Domino," and "They Can't Take That Away From Me" (which just so happens to be one of my favorite songs ever).

See, I'm fine. I've done this before and I can do it again. Yes, it sucks. Yes, it hurts. Yes, I put myself in fictional situations that I know will never happen (think Tom and the party scene in 500 Days of Summer). But it's nothing that I can't handle.

I'll find someone else to take me to England. And someone else to culture with old movies and music. And someone else who loves Harry Potter just as much as I do. I'll find someone else.

And two years from now, I'll know why it all happened. Just like last time.

Uh, you're doing it wrong.

It was requested that I write a post about kissing. Well, there was more to that request, but I don't think I'll completely oblige the requestee.

But if you think about it--and I mean really think about it--kissing is just...weird. I mean, what's more romantic than swapping spit and germs and all manner of grossness with someone else you (hopefully) really like. Spend a minute to think about that. Makes you want to run to the bathroom and brush your teeth--or throw up.

Well, I present you something else that may make you want to throw up. I love Ellen. She's hilarious. (I really hope that she's still on when I'm ridiculously rich and stay home all day so that I can watch her.) Anyway, I ran across this and found it hilarious. And disturbing. And all sorts of weird.



You back from the bathroom? Yeah. That bride was a bit...aggressive. She, apparently, doesn't watch enough chick flicks to know that kissing does indeed include "less chewing." She married a man, not a chew toy.

And just so the requestee isn't completely disappointed by the lack of information in this post, I knew before this video what a good (and bad) kiss is. And I've been perfecting it in the past six weeks.

"A kiss can be a comma, a question mark, or an exclamation point. That's basic spelling that every woman ought to know."
-Jeanne Bourgeois

A Decade of Change.

I didn’t understand what terrorism was. I didn’t understand war. War was something that my grandfather fought in—30 years ago. America was safe. Something as big as Pearl Harbor would never occur here again—at least not in my lifetime. Things like this just don’t happen to me.

Eighth grade. Mrs. Filsinger’s algebra II class. I think it was the first class of the day. We were taking a test. Mrs. Filsinger received a phone call. It was a wrong number; someone was trying to reach some other teacher, but they told Mrs. Filsinger what was going on. Immediately, she turned on the TV, which was right above my head, and called her daughter in Maryland. In my small mind, I was bugged that my teacher had turned on what seemed to be a movie when I was trying to finish my test. My classmates had turned their attention to the events unfolding. I just wanted a good grade.

I don’t know when it clicked that this was a big deal. (Things like this just don’t happen to me, remember?) I didn’t know what the Twin Towers were. I had never been to NYC, at least not that I remembered. I didn’t understand it. But it eventually clicked. It may have been when the plane hit the Pentagon; that was D.C. I knew D.C. very well. It may have been when I went home and watched to footage of the jumpers from the towers. I was home alone and felt scared; terrified of the future.

I’ve seen the gaping hole in the Pentagon. I’ve walked the hallowed ground in NYC where thousands of people died on that fall day. I’ve walked among the millions of wishes, notes, gifts and sadness left by people of all backgrounds for those who sacrificed. They didn’t ask to die for their country. They didn’t ask to be made exemplars. They wanted to live their lives. They wanted to love their families. They just wanted to BE.

But even ten years later, I don’t understand. I don’t understand why killing makes peace. Why hatred brings people to strap bombs to themselves and kill not only them, but also hundreds of other innocent strangers. I don’t understand why families have to endure the worry of knowing their son or daughter or husband or wife or brother or sister is in danger, half a world away, and the pain of holding that folded flag.

I do know that I am grateful. I am grateful for those recognize and appreciate the importance and sacred value of our country and freedom. I am grateful for those who have enough courage to protect that freedom for people they will never meet, in a countries across the world. It is the most Christ-like service: to give of yourself for people who cannot do it themselves. Christ protected us from sin and its consequences; our military men protect us from terrorism and destruction.

I’m not a terribly emotional person, but since September 11, 2001, I am that person who gets choked up singing or hearing the nation anthem. Seeing others show respect to all who made America possible brings me to tears. At college, my favorite part of the day was when the national anthem played throughout campus while the flag was taken down. I loved seeing the response it brought. It was disappointing to see those who didn’t respect this special time. Even if they were foreigners, this song was for them. They just didn’t understand. They didn’t understand how this single song represents hundreds of years of struggle, heartache, death and pure inspiration to bring about this nation.

The patriotism that America experienced following the attacks was overwhelming. Most homes in my home town displayed an American flag. People grouped together in the fight to protect America. But where is it now? It’s been smothered by technology, sports, debt and materialism. It’s been smothered by a hatred for a president and by 10 years of war and the sorrows and bitterness it brings. But we are a blessed country. We have so much compared to others in the world. We have so much to be grateful for and to.

I believe in America and its people. I believe that we are a great nation. However, I also believe that we are a great nation in trouble. We have forgotten our roots. We have forgotten why America is great. We are not grateful enough. Our nation was built on the principles of freedom and justice “to form a more perfect union.” I’ve seen that original document and believe in it and those who were inspired to write it.

We have potential. We have greatness. We must rise to the ever-present occasion. I hope we all remember that and know that even in one of the darkest times of our nation’s history, we were able to come together, grow and move forward. Let’s keep moving forward and only look back to remember and learn. America will only be great if its people are great.

Be great and remember how you’re here.

Taking Chances

Hey, Caution!

So, I threw you to the wind a couple of days ago. I really hope that you do not come back and slap me in the face. That would not be cool.

And you and my brain should have a long talk. It's overthinking everything. The two of you should get on same wavelength as my heart. Because I'm going to try and start listening to that more.

*cue Celine Dion music*