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My philosophy on the world and current events...

Tue, 20 Dec 2011 06:33:28 +0100

Admittedly, my eyes were only opened a short time ago. Until that moment I was consumed with the comfort and security of my family and myself. In the United States we have many liberties- for the most part our lives are comfortable.

This is especially true when compared to the reality that people around the world face- the same reality that we, as Americans, are not fully exposed to. Our media limits the level of truth that is told in newspapers, magazines, and on television.

I cannot with a clear conscience say that we, as Americans, are completely oblivious to the turmoil consuming the world- but I can say (after my own research and my personal drive for knowledge) that the truth is not told in America- but it can be found, we are free Americans, at least for now.

Even now, as I sit in my comfortable home- typing on my laptop while my children sleep safely in their beds- there is no gunfire, no bombs, no tear gas, no chaos. No one went to bed hungry; we have access to “clean” (the meaning behind the sarcastic quotations are a topic all their own) water for cooking, showering, laundry, and even for flushing our toilets. We are blessed.

It is difficult for me to hear the truth. The truth puts knots in my stomach- it makes me question everything. The truth makes it hard not to feel guilty for the many blessings that I have, for the many things I worry about. At the same time, I cannot ignore the truth- I can’t keep it to myself.

I do not want this for my children. I do not want my children to ignore the issues the rest of the world is facing. I don’t want them to have to face those issues themselves. I cannot be “okay” knowing how many people are suffering everyday-men, women, and children. Therefore, I talk to whoever will listen about what I’ve learned- I encourage them to verify it for themselves.

I try to teach them that we are all people. Who is “right” or “wrong” depends on which side of the fence you are standing. My oldest son- who was 10 at the time (2 years ago) asked me, “Mom, why did we go to war with Iraq anyway? My teacher said that we went to war because of the attacks on 9/11, is that why? We’re the good guys right?”

As a mother, I contemplated for a moment how I should respond before I finally said, “Who is right and who is wrong- when it comes to war- all depends on which side you’re on. In America we see it as fighting terrorism; in Iraq they consider us the terrorists.” Blunt? Yes. Honest? Yes. Wrong? I don’t think so.

I have pride in the ideals that are America. Freedom from persecution, constitutional protections, balances of powers, equality, and justice for all. I am proud that Americans fought for the freedom of slaves within its borders- I am proud that throughout history there have been Americans not afraid to speak up, not afraid to demand the liberties that we should all be guaranteed. I am proud of the military men and women willing to step up and fight for what they believe to be the right thing. I regret that there is even a possibility that they have been manipulated.

I regret the way in which our great country was founded- with the slaughtering and enslavement of the people to be known as Native Americans. I regret that many Native Americans live on forgotten lands- that many of us (in America) would consider third-world conditions, right here within our borders. I regret that we have never been the America we were meant to be.

I regret that despite past mistakes we continue to persecute those with different beliefs, ideals, and values than our own. I regret that we are possibly months away from being told what those beliefs, ideals, and values are. I regret that our voices have been ignored; that our planet and its people have suffered to turn a profit.

Furthermore, I regret that we all fail to see the significance in the fact that we are all on this planet together. We are all people. "Individually, we are one drop. Together, we are an ocean." – [Ryunosuke Satoro] we can evolve, we can become what we should have been all along. Beyond the lines we’ve drawn in the sand and the many categories in which we put each other- we are all just people.

There is undeniably evil in the world, but there is also good. I regret that we do not realize how powerful we, as people, really are. I regret that we don’t care enough to realize until there is a threat staring us in the face.

Almost 4 years ago...

Mon, 05 Dec 2011 05:02:36 +0100

I lay in bed, it is still early. The sun has yet to grace my world with its golden light. I just want to go back to sleep. I pull the covers up to my ears and close my eyes again, burying my face under my pillow. “Mom-ma…Mo-om” comes from down the hall in a voice so small and sweet that a part of me has to smile. Yet there is still a part of me that wants to continue hiding from the day. “Mom-Meee!” with that final call I force myself out from under the warmth of the bed and in to the cold of the morning.

Stumbling down the hall to the bathroom, my eyes aren’t open yet. Switching on the light my eyes close tighter, still fighting for the peace of sleep. I look in the mirror at my reflection. Who is this person? I look so old and tired. All of the freshness and youth is gone from me. It seems as if just yesterday I was a child. Now the years are passing so quickly that my own reflection is a stranger to me. Every morning I face the same dilemma and every morning I convince myself that I will change things, change my lifestyle so the years won’t catch up to me so quickly. And every evening I reflect on the day with disappointment in myself for yet again changing nothing.

There was a time in my life when I was confident in myself. I never considered myself to be conceited, but at one point I felt pretty. That is gone from me too. I am not yet thirty and still I feel as if the best of me is in the past. Certainly I haven’t peaked so early in life, and with so little to show for it. I like to think that the best of me is yet to be revealed, and at the same time that optimism feels naïve, even stupid. I bet everyone feels this way at some point. I bet everyone has a moment in life when they too must face the reality of their own reflection, the reality of who they have become.

As a child everything seemed so magical and mysterious. It is somewhat of a cruel irony when you grow up and realize that the only magic and mystery in the world is held in the question of how people could ever feel that way in this world to begin with. Adults have seen too much, they know too much and that amazement and wonder in the world can never be recaptured once it is lost. As an adult the only wonder is how people can be so cruel and so selfish to others and sometimes even to themselves.

So I head out of the bathroom with the promise in my heart to change my life today. In to the kids’ room where my baby Ayden is standing in his crib, greeting me with his smile and dimples. My two older sons are fighting off the morning just as I was only moments ago. Forcing an energetic and happy tone I try to rouse my eldest son Anthony to get him ready for school. He is wise for his age and doesn’t buy my false energy. “Don’t you want to go back to bed?” he asks in a weary tone. “I don’t want to go to school, school is stupid.” I reply with, “School is not stupid, it is very important, and you have to go- so let’s go!” He grumbles but he is getting up, so I grab the baby and head out to start breakfast and coffee.

On my way back down the hall in the darkness of the early morning I wonder to myself if I have just lied to my son. School is important, right? I mean, I did well in school, I paid attention and cared deeply about my performance and my grades, and what did it do for me? I am now an unemployed twenty-six year old mother of three with no degree and a less than intriguing resume. My performance in school has had absolutely no effect on the outcome of my life. My choices and mistakes, or moments of weakness over shadowed all of the hard work and effort I had put in to my future through my focus in school. There certainly hasn’t been anyone in my life that has cared or even asked about my performance in third grade. But I suppose that is what a good mother would say anyhow, even if she didn’t fully believe it herself. So I convince myself that it was the right thing and continue to the kitchen.

Cold cereal, oatmeal, or frozen waffles? I am not so wonderful of a mother that I can bring myself to cook a hot breakfast every morning. In fact more often than not, breakfast is simple and quick. I convince myself that I make up for the laziness later in the day with a nutritional dinner. After all, I do offer orange juice with breakfast for vitamin C, and they aren’t going hungry. Regardless, I won’t be chosen as mother of the year anytime soon but the kids don’t seem to mind. I decide to make waffles this morning. I put them in the toaster and pull frozen, fully cooked sausage patties from the freezer to throw in the microwave. Once everything is ‘cooking’ I grab the baby a sippy cup, fill it with milk and put him in his high chair. Time for coffee! I don’t know what I would do without my liquid energy in the morning.

Just as the coffee begins dripping into the empty pot and the smell of freshly brewed coffee fills my nostrils, my middle boy Ashten comes up behind me and hugs my legs. “Good morning sunshine” I say looking down at him. He just grunts and twists his body in aggravation. He acts just like I do when I wake up.

I get all three of the plates ready, cutting the waffles in to bite size pieces for both the baby and Ashten. With everyone seated and eating I treat myself to a nice hot cup of coffee. I also enjoy a morning cigarette on the back porch.

I have been thinking about quitting smoking for awhile now, sometimes I even talk about it too. I have tried twice, but no success yet. I guess it’s just another thing that I can reflect upon and be disappointed in myself for. I came to the conclusion not too long ago that I am an expert in almost achieving things. I don’t know if I lose motivation or if my timing is off. I have really great ideas…and once in awhile I try to follow them through, but they have never really panned out. Oh well. Despite all the negativity, I am largely satisfied with my life. I like to say that I’m rich in all the ways that matter. My children are beautiful, healthy, and happy. I am lucky enough to be married to someone that truly loves and cares about me. Michael understands me and knows me better than I know myself sometimes. He is even the father of all three of my children. Not that I want a medal or anything, but it’s not as common as one would think in this day and age.

The world is crazy these days. All signs point to “the end of days”, but no one really seems to notice, or at least we don’t talk about it. Who knows if that’s true anyway? Furthermore, even if we could prove it to be true, what would we do after that? To discover the truth in this instance wouldn’t solve much. If the book of Revelations, the prophecies, and the predictions are true to this life, and all these occurrences are happening just as predicted in these books and records, isn’t it guaranteed to finish the way it’s predicted as well? Obviously if this were true, there would be nothing we could do to change or prevent anything. Perhaps this is a solid case of what you don’t know can’t hurt you.

Life is full of more questions than I could possibly ponder on this cold January morning. So for now I’ll focus on getting Anthony ready for school. I hurry him from the dining room table to the bathroom to brush his teeth and ‘freshen up’ for school. As he stands I notice the seat cover on my dining room chair. The cream colored vinyl has a dirty gray tint and there are rips covering most of the cushion on the seat. The fuzzy underside of the fabric is exposed and has been stained by spills. I quickly push the chair back under the table so I don’t have to think about them anymore. I have vowed to buy fabric as soon as I can afford it, to recover the chairs. Let us just hope that I actually follow through with that thought.

“Come on babe, it’s time to go!” I shout to Anthony from the dining room as I slip my coat and shoes on. “Give hugs and kisses!” I walk from the dining room in to the living room to look out the front door and check to see if the car needs snow or ice cleaned off of it. I always hope that the windows aren’t fogged up from the cold, because our car doesn’t have heat right now, which obviously reduces the effectiveness of defrost. This morning I was lucky and just had to brush off a light layer of snow.

As we get in the car I make sure to turn the radio all the way down. Anthony informed me earlier this school year that he prefers for the drive to school to be quiet. So I leave it off for him. We drive the three blocks to school, which he walks home everyday but refuses to walk to. It would make more sense for him to walk to school as well, but Michael and I decided that if he doesn’t want to walk by himself to school yet we should just take him and enjoy that fact that he hasn’t yet outgrown being seen in public with us. As we pull up to the doors of the school I say, “I love you baby, now get outta my car.” He always laughs when I say that. I was joking one morning and said that for the first time, after that it just became a ritual, our inside joke. On mornings that I would forget to say it he would remind me. “Love you too” he replies while he gets out.

After seeing him off I drive the three blocks home in the snow, and prepare for the rest of my day. I like the house that we live in now. It has a lot of potential. We have moved a lot over the years, some houses were good, some were bad. We usually only move because of financial problems, we never have any money. Some of this is due to bad luck, some to bad choices. But I’ve always done my best to make things work, and I try to learn from my mistakes.

It really irritates me that I make stupid choices, I hate to be wrong. I have an obsession with not becoming a victim of myself or anyone else. I think that is why I am so hard on myself about not having achieved more at this point in my life. It was said when I had Anthony the summer before my senior year that I had ruined my life, and a lot of my motivation to succeed is drawn from the yearning to prove that statement to be false. I refuse to believe that something as wonderful as having Anthony and the other boys is anything but a blessing in my life. I realize things may have worked out differently for me if I had waited until I was older to be a mom, but I was born to be a mother anyway, so when doesn’t make a difference in the big picture.

But it was not your fault, but mine....

Sun, 27 Nov 2011 06:00:48 +0100

I really do try to stay optimistic, but, um, enough is enough already. I can barely eat, sleep, or think anymore. I have become Comfortably Numb. Yes, I just quoted Pink Floyd. I have resorted to looking to music in an attempt to define how I am feeling, because I honestly don't know anymore.

"I'm pretty good, how are you?", "I'm good.", "I'm fine.", and "I'm alright" have been my automatic responses to the question of how I am doing for so long that now that I'm not sure I even know the truth anymore. So, Where Is My Mind? (yup, Pixies reference).

My mind is avoiding the reality that there are people depending on me and I am failing. To the core of my existence I believe that I am doing the best that I can-but that is not going to keep us afloat much longer. My mind is ignoring the whispers, be they real or imagined, that keep saying I'm not trying hard enough. My mind is scheming up ways to find a good job without a working vehicle or phone.

My mind is hoping my determination will be enough to get me through my bachelors program while my world is crashing down around me. My mind is trying to find ways to pay the rent, power, and water bills with what is simply not enough. My mind is pondering how I will ever manage to make the change I want to see in the world a reality- when I cannot even change my own reality.

I just want to be happy. I just want to enjoy my life and my family. But the world is just not that simple anymore. Having an education isn't good enough. Being over-qualified is a problem. Being inexperienced is a problem. Not knowing the right people is... a problem. So, what am I gonna do? I don't know. But I do know that I Wont Back down (thank you Tom Petty).

I gotta keep on keepin on. I gotta just put my iPod on shuffle, close my eyes and just let myself fall into the abyss of the unknown- with my head held high- and pray for a soft landing. Because life is a blessing - it's Magic (Pilot) and I can't deny that some of those days are Shiny Diamonds (ICP).

Weep for yourself, my man,
You'll never be what is in your heart
Weep little lion man,
You're not as brave as you were at the start
Rate yourself and rake yourself,
Take all of the courage you have left
Wasted on fixing all the problems that you made in your own head

But it was not your fault but mine
and it was your heart on the line
I really fucked it up this time
Didn't I, my dear?...

Mumford and Sons- Little Lion Man

Fall Seven Times and Stand up Eight

Fri, 04 Nov 2011 03:35:43 +0100

If there is one thing I have learned for sure in my life it is that my happiness relies on my ability to truly "roll with the punches". Life is going to be unkind, I am going to, at times, put forth my best effort and still fail. I will be kicked while I am down, my faith will be tested, and I will be left wondering if it's even worth trying anymore- I have found that the point is not to achieve constant highs in life, but to endure the lows with dignity and class and to never back down.

That part is becoming easier for me. However, I still have a hard time differentiating between failures that result from my own shortcomings and those that were just meant to be. I can't help but feel that "if I had never..." or "if I had just..." things would have worked out according to my plan. My well thought out- built with blood, sweat, and tears plan. I can't help but wonder if I am just not trying hard enough.

The whole thing is a catch-22 really; if I believe that my failure(s) are a result of circumstances beyond my control I risk neglecting to admit to my missteps and risk repeating the same mistakes. But if I believe my failure(s) are a result of things I did or did not do I can end up putting too much pressure on myself. The key, of course, is balance- but I struggle to find that.

I have to admit that at least the last decade of my life has been built on convincing others that I am confident and strong. Proving that I know what I am doing and that I can do anything- with the belief that if I could convince others I might someday believe it myself. The problem is that when I am scared or feel lost I don't want to show weakness. I was a seriously emotionally unstable adolescent and I know that that is not the person I want to be. But now I can't reach out, I can rarely admit defeat, I suffer in silence.

I know that I can't win 'em all. I know that it is always darkest before the dawn. I know that things will get better. I know that I can't give up. And most importantly, I know that I will never get anyone to believe in me until I can believe in myself. I guess some serious soul searching is in order.

Big ol' jet airliner...

Tue, 25 Oct 2011 06:29:01 +0100

The four hour drive to San Francisco seemed to take days. With each town that we passed I was farther away from home. And with each town passed the knot in my stomach grew bigger and my tears fell harder. "I don't want to move to Indiana!" I sobbed. My mother drove silently most of the time, only occasionally responding to my tantrum with a lost attempt to plead her case one last time. I didn't want to hear it. In my mind she had given me up long before this day. I had been living with friends for some time already, not with her. I was 14, getting started in high school, and now she decided that pawning me off on friends wasn't enough, she needed me to be half way across the country. You see my mom had had a rough couple of years. She had lost her job, her third husband, and along with that went our home, and in my opinion her will to fight anymore.

Things had been bad for us for awhile. My mom was drinking heavily, she had kicked me out once already which led to the end of the modeling I had just started to do- the modeling that I thought was my ticket out. Instead I was homeless, and wound up living with my boyfriend and his family. From there I went to stay with another friend. Eventually my mom decided I should just go live with my dad, whom luckily for me had moved to Indiana. The child that I was then hated her. I hated her for drinking and I hated her for not caring enough to fight for us to be together. As the adult that I am today I realize how much this very moment in the car on the way to the airport must have killed her inside. Yet she just drove.

When we finally arrived at the airport I could barely walk. My legs felt so weak, and everything inside me wanted to refuse to leave the car. My cries had weakened too, and I felt an overwhelming feeling of defeat. I was leaving today- and there was nothing that I could say or do to change that. By the time we reached the gate my tears had stopped completely and I was silent. The chatter of passersby and the sound of the arrival and departure announcements over the loud speaker were drowned out by the thumping of my heart in my ears. I felt as if I was in a trance, my body had become numb, and the airport was glowing with the essence of California, an essence that I may never see again. The announcement calling for me to board the plane snapped me back to reality and my heart sunk further in to my stomach.

I started to walk toward the small doorway and the way too perky attendant behind the podium to hand over my boarding pass. My mother grabbed my arm and pulled me in to a tight hug. I rested my head on her shoulder and realized at that moment how good my mom smelled and how much I would miss that aroma. I hugged her back with all intentions of never letting go. She put her hands on my cheeks and pulled my face up towards her. There we stood face to face- both wondering when we would see each other again. The light shining in through the window illuminated my mother like an angel, the soft light reflecting off of her dark hair. For the first time since we had left Fresno I saw tears building up in her eyes. "I'm sorry" she whispered. "Me too," I replied. We hugged again and said I love you, and then I left. I put my headphones over my ears as the perky attendant checked my ticket. She handed it back and I began my journey down the little hallway to plane. I found my seat, stowed my carry on and got comfortable next to the window. I pressed my face up against it and looked out on California for the last time.

The end of innocence

Tue, 25 Oct 2011 06:25:23 +0100

So...once reality sunk in everything was different. The world just didn't feel or look the same anymore. There are times in my life now when I am driving down the road on a beautiful sunny day- taking in the sights around me, and I get that childhood feeling again for a moment- that feeling of wonder and amazement- the feeling of peace. What I wouldn't give to have that feeling every day of my life. But I can't now, I know too much- I have seen too much. There's no turning back.

It is still amazing though, how sights, sounds, smells or tastes can take you right back to a different point in time. For a moment you can almost feel like you're living it all over again. For example, every time I eat mint chocolate chip ice cream (which happens to be my favorite) I am taken right back to a night in fourth grade, another significant moment that seemed to steal a part of my innocence...

I was staying overnight with a good friend. The night was normal for the most part; we played, jumped on the bed and entertained each other. When it became dark my friend's mom decided to take us to Thrifty's, a drugstore in Fresno. She needed to get a few things, and we got to get some ice cream! I remember we sat in the back of their Pontiac Grand AM, all the while pretending that her mother was a limo driver, and we of course were rich and famous! When we got to the store I decided on two scoops of mint chocolate chip on a sugar cone, we piled back in to the car and headed back to their apartment. Upon pulling in the dark, deserted parking lot of the complex- I guess you could say the unexpected happened.

Two men with guns ran up to either side of the car. "Get the fuck out of the car!" they shouted at her mother. We all sat silent, and still as if we could not comprehend what was happening. "Get the fuck out!" they shouted again. It was after the second demand that I believe the man on the passenger side of the car where I was, noticed the two of us in the back seat. To this day I believe that this shocked him, his expression changed when he caught my eye- there was almost a sense of guilt. He pushed up the front seat of the car to allow me to exit the two door sedan.

My heart was thumping and my body was numb. I can't even honestly say that I was scared- it was really as if my body was reacting to the situation- but my mind wasn't able to grasp what was happening. When I stepped out of the car the man almost stepped on my foot. I waited for my friend to exit the car and we began to run. The night air was warm on my face as I ran, but I couldn't stop the cold chill that was covering my body. My heartbeat thumped in my ears and throat. We were running- with no planned destination, not saying a word. Just running. Eventually we ended up at the front door of her apartment. What probably took minutes seemed like an eternity. It wasn't until we stopped running that we realized that her mother wasn't with us. We looked at each other- stunned. Then we began to laugh hysterically. I still don't understand why would be laughing, but we did.

After a few moments we heard her mother yelling for us. We ran towards her voice, it was then that the tears started. To this day, every time I eat my favorite ice cream I'm taken back to this night. The night that I realized that there is no escaping the world. I wasn't home- I was with a 'normal' family-so I thought I was safe-I was wrong.

My Philosophy on Giving Back

Sat, 24 Sep 2011 03:04:14 +0100

"Time is what we want most, but what we use worst." - William Penn

I feel like that quote sums up the reasoning behind my thought process this past year. I know psychologically speaking the development of a bucket list and an increased focus on the future has a great deal to do with the fact that I will turn 30 next summer- but why now?

Because at this age you start feel like you may not have enough time to accomplish everything that you want; you start to worry that you have wasted too much time already- and start to re-evaluate your priorities and take a good look at the person that you have become.

When this happened for me I realized that I had spent the last 28 years focusing solely on becoming successful for myself and for my family; having a degree, getting a good job, buying a house, and lets be honest here- having more money. I was really disappointed in myself at this point.

I had overcome many obstacles to achieve the things that I had (though it may not be a lot) at this point and I wanted to be proud of myself, but in the grand scheme of things what was I REALLY doing? Was this my big plan for my life? Was I really going to find success on this path?

I realized quickly that I didn't know what I really wanted at all, I didn't have a real plan because even if I achieved everything I thought I wanted I still wouldn't feel like a success. Besides the fact that there are so many more important things in life than a successful career and money- I had realized that I was being really selfish.

I mean, how many people in the world are starving to death? My family never goes hungry, even in the worst of times. Yet I was so ungrateful for the blessings that I had in my life that I actually allowed myself to have a pity party from time to time. I was so caught up in me that I ignored the rest of the world.

So I began taking steps to remedy that. What I learned in my research really opened my eyes. For example, did you know at this very moment there have been 26,530 people that have died of hunger just today? And that number increases by one about every second. It really put things in to perspective.

Not to mention the state of our environment from the damage we have done to our planet. We are, as a whole, a selfish and destructive species- but we don't have to be. I admit I was overwhelmed at first; there are so many issues in the world, so many problems I would like to help with- but I am only one person and I don't have money to give, so how could I really help?

Whether an idea planted by society or a conclusion that I had come to myself- I had come to believe that I could not make a difference, that it was naive to even try. Now, right or wrong, I feel like the important thing is to try. I have been helped by others in my time of need and I need to pay it forward. I need to use the time I have to do something that matters to me and to the people I share this world with.

My Story Part 1

Fri, 23 Sep 2011 03:08:20 +0100

I've wanted to tell my story for a long time. I've even started it a few times...and then just stopped. There was a time when I wanted to be an author, but that too faded. So I found myself asking, why not? Well, as far as the life story goes- I guess I just assumed that no one would care to read it. After all, my life is certainly not something that fairy tales are made of. But then I realized that the real reason I want to tell my story is so that it has been told. I don't care if I touch people with my writing or make money from it, or even if it is good. All that matters to me, I've realized, is that I don't leave this world without having left something behind. I have children, who of course will be my legacy, but my children will not fully reflect who I am, who I was, or who I want to be. In fact, in the grand scheme of things, I was an entirely different person before I had children. So I have decided to leave my mark.

So who am I? Well I used to be a naive child. Ignorant really, but ignorance is bliss. For a long time I didn't even realize that my life, my family, was something straight from a lifetime movie. I actually felt normalcy in the parties and the fighting. I knew that I didn't have everything I wanted, but I didn't think we were poor; excuse me "poverty stricken". Don't get me wrong, I am well aware that no one has a normal family, I also realize that there are many people in the world that were way worse off when things were bad for me. But this is not about those people, this story is mine.

My first memory as a child is my father moving out. I was two. I'm not even sure how I can remember that being as young as I was, but I do. For a long time I wasn't even sure what the memory was when it would play like a movie in my mind. It wasn't until I described it to my Mom that I discovered I was seeing the day that he left. I was seeing him packing to leave, that's why Mom was crying. Anyway, eventually my Mom remarried, as did my Dad. Lucky me, more crazy people!

My new step dad came equipped with two boys of his own. Almost like the Brady Bunch, but minus one boy, one girl, and the happiness. I remember my mom and him fighting a lot, sometimes physically. But what I really remember is the parties. A lot of times my mom’s friends would bring their kids, and I would make up dance routines and plays for us to put on for our parents. These were the better times, the fun times. Then there were the times when I was trying to sleep. "Be Quiet! I have to go to school in the morning!" I would plead. I was about 7 or 8 at the time. But they would just keep drinking and partying. This was about the time in my life when reality started to sink in. I would go over to friend’s houses and see how different their parents were, how different their lives were. I spent a lot of time with my friends, and their families...

My philosophy...

Fri, 23 Sep 2011 03:07:42 +0100

Sometimes as I lay in bed half asleep stuck in what I call the limbo of the mind; where the body wants to rest but the mind refuses to stop I contemplate my purpose in this world, I wonder what I am meant to do. I could look around me at any given time and find someone who claims to know the answer. There are so many ideas of what we should be, that it is hard to remember what is truly important about our existence.

Years ago I developed the mantra that, in the end your life is defined by those you love and those that love you, nothing else matters. This was the first conclusion I came to in my search for myself. I mean, literally, when we die all that is left of us is the memories that those still walking the earth have of us; the memories the share, the pictures they keep, the lessons we taught them~ that part of us carries on. Our material things: money, houses, cars, posessions- may last for years, or even decades- but they too will eventually be gone. Therefore, it stands to reason that our relationships with each other are the most important aspect of ourselves.

After this relization I could no longer ignore the fact that my relationships with other people were minimal. I decided then and there that I wanted to make a difference in the world. But wait, that is no original thought- for centuries people have desired to make a difference-have made it their purpose in life. And how does one do that anyway? Should I run for President? Join the U.N.? Devote my life to the church? There is a long list of ways in which society would say that I could I change the world- but these are all political avenues, and where politics exist, we are again constrained by the idea of what society expects of us.