To be completely honest, I never knew that half an hour could be so earth shattering, so confusing and yet so amazing in that one instance.
Half an hour was the amount of time it took to take close to 50 different shots for grad photos. Admittedly the flash got in my eyes and made them smaller than usual. I was blinded for mere seconds to return back to reality, wearing heels that gave me 4 extra inches in height and more make up than I was used to.
In half an hour, my entire life flashed before my eyes.. literally.
Okay, so maybe I'm extremely melodramatic. I wasn't in danger at any point during this shoot, but during this occasion when I slipped into the graduation gown for the first time and looked at myself in the mirror, the cinema began playing.
It is so strange to think that in 5 months time, I will be graduating. I have been waiting for this day for 13 years, and it came quicker than I anticipated it to do so. The fact that I am moving on from one stage of my life to a new one is weird to me. This life is all I have ever known, and this coming September I will be put into a new life.
I realize that I tend to over think things, and this year I've tried my best to take things as they come and go with the flow of things. What is inevitable is that whether I like it or not, I'm still graduating. I'm going to have to move on when the commencements happen in June. We all age and time continues to tick on; it waits for no one.
With each picture taken a flash would go off every 15 seconds. Every 15 seconds a part of my life would dance before my eyes. For that half an hour I relived every memorable moment in my life, and when the photographers told me that it was done, I was brought back to the person I am now. I wish I could remember what ran through my mind when I was the ages of 3 or 7 or 12 or 15. My mind only stretches so far, but yet in that half an hour everything had rushed back into my memory like flooding water.
During this time I also realized that I spend way too much time feeling unhappy about things that aren't worth my time. Admittedly I like to do that, not because I "like" to but because that's just who I am and it's what I've been doing for.. ever.
I need to make the first step to realize that I can choose to be sad, or I can choose to move on. If time flies this quickly and 18 years can go by in the blink of an eye, then there is no time to waste by being sad. Why do we let these things take over our minds and memories? It seems that all we remember are the negative things when really, we should be focusing on the positives and let these happy times burn into our memories.
Walking away from what was advertised to me as another photo shoot helped me to realize how quickly life goes by, how short it truly is and how we all deserve to be happy in this short life of ours. After all, if we are happy, then life will be more enjoyable and be a lot longer.
So live life, be happy, and spill more ink while you do so.
Saturday, February 01, 2014
Monday, January 20, 2014
The Wisdom of a 10 Year Old
They say that as you age, you become more mature and learn more. Therefore, as the saying goes, you should theoretically be wiser as you get older. For many this is the case: look at our grandparents. Look at our parents. Look at the ones that we depend on for help and counsel in our times of need.
This past weekend I had the opportunity to spend time with an interesting young soul who, in my mind, had a very mature sense of direction. Only 10 years old, she carried herself with poise and grace. She was able to greet many people by name and was very eloquently put.
With short blonde hair and grey-green eyes, she is beautiful. Her smile is radiant and the way she talks commands attention from whoever she speaks to. Perhaps it is the confidence in her voice, or maybe just how adorable she looks. Nevertheless, I cannot look away.
While munching on cookies she asked me and my best friend if we had any problems. "I am a very good problem solver," she said to us. "I helped the last few people with theirs. They said that their problems were really, really hard, but I solved them."
I seriously considered her question. Did I have any problems? Life problems? Relationship problems? Friendship problems?
I did not say anything right away, but eventually I cracked in the silence. What harm is there in talking to a 10 year old? I asked myself. I have nothing to lose. I only have innocence and wisdom to gain.
So out poured my so called problems and dilemmas, all of which had sat in my mind for days and days only to be turned and overturned and ignored in hopes that they would disappear on their own. I told her all about the stresses that I had of the future, the hurt that I felt from a love lost, and the confusion that I felt from a situation that was going south faster than I could keep up with.
She listened patiently (yet another thing I admired of this young one) and waited until I was completely finished talking. As I drew in another breath, I suddenly felt nervous. But why was I nervous? Why did I feel the anxiety that I did after I told a 10 year old all my fears and problems?
She blinked a couple times and drew in a breath of her own. "This is tricky," she mused, munching on yet another cookie. As she chewed she stared past me out the window. "I've never had a boyfriend before, but I think that this is something you need to tell him. Talk to him. You don't talk to him enough. Maybe he wants you to talk to him. Boys are weird like that. Girls have to do everything," she said, rolling her eyes.
With all the short bursts of words and sentences, I realized that everything she was saying was in fact correct. I was hiding. I was not talking or expressing how I felt. I was bottling up everything inside.
Didn't I post something on this last time? Yeah, I think I did. And here I am, still not understanding the picture.
After our conversation I felt more at ease and lighter, as if a huge weight was taken off my shoulders. This was something I could easily solve on my own, yet, I had to wait for someone else to tell me. Someone that was 10 years old.
This young girl had all the wisdom and patience I wish I had. I wish that I did not think so much and simplified things. I find that as I get older, I find bigger and better ways to over complicate things for myself, adding unnecessary stress and anxiety to my life.
Thinking back to my 10 year old self, I probably was not as graceful and poised as this girl, but I am thankful that I was able to spend time with one that was able to clear my mind and help me with my problems. I sincerely hope that we remember not to discount the young ones, because sometimes, the younger ones are the ones that are the wisest. I will miss this girl.
Take it easy everyone. Talk to some youngsters, take a breath and spill some ink while you're at it.
This past weekend I had the opportunity to spend time with an interesting young soul who, in my mind, had a very mature sense of direction. Only 10 years old, she carried herself with poise and grace. She was able to greet many people by name and was very eloquently put.
With short blonde hair and grey-green eyes, she is beautiful. Her smile is radiant and the way she talks commands attention from whoever she speaks to. Perhaps it is the confidence in her voice, or maybe just how adorable she looks. Nevertheless, I cannot look away.
While munching on cookies she asked me and my best friend if we had any problems. "I am a very good problem solver," she said to us. "I helped the last few people with theirs. They said that their problems were really, really hard, but I solved them."
I seriously considered her question. Did I have any problems? Life problems? Relationship problems? Friendship problems?
I did not say anything right away, but eventually I cracked in the silence. What harm is there in talking to a 10 year old? I asked myself. I have nothing to lose. I only have innocence and wisdom to gain.
So out poured my so called problems and dilemmas, all of which had sat in my mind for days and days only to be turned and overturned and ignored in hopes that they would disappear on their own. I told her all about the stresses that I had of the future, the hurt that I felt from a love lost, and the confusion that I felt from a situation that was going south faster than I could keep up with.
She listened patiently (yet another thing I admired of this young one) and waited until I was completely finished talking. As I drew in another breath, I suddenly felt nervous. But why was I nervous? Why did I feel the anxiety that I did after I told a 10 year old all my fears and problems?
She blinked a couple times and drew in a breath of her own. "This is tricky," she mused, munching on yet another cookie. As she chewed she stared past me out the window. "I've never had a boyfriend before, but I think that this is something you need to tell him. Talk to him. You don't talk to him enough. Maybe he wants you to talk to him. Boys are weird like that. Girls have to do everything," she said, rolling her eyes.
With all the short bursts of words and sentences, I realized that everything she was saying was in fact correct. I was hiding. I was not talking or expressing how I felt. I was bottling up everything inside.
Didn't I post something on this last time? Yeah, I think I did. And here I am, still not understanding the picture.
After our conversation I felt more at ease and lighter, as if a huge weight was taken off my shoulders. This was something I could easily solve on my own, yet, I had to wait for someone else to tell me. Someone that was 10 years old.
This young girl had all the wisdom and patience I wish I had. I wish that I did not think so much and simplified things. I find that as I get older, I find bigger and better ways to over complicate things for myself, adding unnecessary stress and anxiety to my life.
Thinking back to my 10 year old self, I probably was not as graceful and poised as this girl, but I am thankful that I was able to spend time with one that was able to clear my mind and help me with my problems. I sincerely hope that we remember not to discount the young ones, because sometimes, the younger ones are the ones that are the wisest. I will miss this girl.
Take it easy everyone. Talk to some youngsters, take a breath and spill some ink while you're at it.
Tuesday, January 14, 2014
My Own Purple
What does it truly mean to be loved?
As teenagers with raging hormones, the feelings of "acceptance", "love", "friendship" and "belonging" are all feelings that seem to always be on the forefronts of our minds. We're always striving to find ways for people to like us for what we can offer rather than who we truly are. We always hide behind the facade of "this is who I want the world to see me as" rather than living life as ourselves.
Because really, who else can do ourselves justice than... ourselves?
This has been a topic of major confusion and frustration in my life in the past several months. As a young kid I never really found a place in the social ladder that we call school. I was never a cool kid - I was usually the kid that liked to read over speak, I was terrible at sports and therefore usually picked last to be on any team and I had a hard time voicing my opinions in fear of being judged. Growing up never makes it easier, as I seemed to grow more and more into my introverted personality.
However, many people that know me well call me a walking oxymoron - yes, my parts of my personality contradicts other parts of my personality.
I am as loud as I am soft; I am as outgoing as I am shy. But one thing is for certain: I still do not really know where I belong in the world.
Why is it so important that we find a niche - a place to call our own?
The feeling of loneliness eats at my soul sometimes, and yet, sometimes loneliness is the one thing that I need to escape the realities of the world. I am trying to find people that accept me for me. I want to find people that like me for who I am and people that can be themselves around me.
Why is it that I feel like I have to pretend to get people to like me?
It's more time consuming, as I am starting to realize now, to please everyone. The reality of life is that not everyone will get along with everyone else. Trying to please everyone may not make them like you, and in fact, it may cause you to lose yourself.
So why spend time pretending to be someone that you are not?
Why do we chase after love? It gives us a sense of belonging, of importance, of happiness. But maybe, we are all interpreting love in different ways, and maybe that is why we are all so confused.
Speaking for myself, I know that I tend to fall too quickly, trust too soon and take everything seriously. That is just who I am - when I meet someone that I can relate to and makes me feel comfortable, I want to share something special with them. I want to convince myself that this is a special person in my life. I want to see that this person feels the same way about me.
I have had the privilege to meet certain people that have given me the feelings of hope and happiness in the time that I had met them. These are people in my life that have given me the strength and the courage to carry on in my life.
There was once a boy that I met, who shall be named Purple (strange? maybe, but that's between us) that gave me this strength despite the short time we had known each other. Purple had a beautiful smile, one that made me forget all my troubles. He was wise and quiet and he gave the best hugs. Though he was older than me he never talked down at me. He made me feel equal to him, because, "we are really not that different in this world".
Unfortunately, or fortunately, Purple was introduced into my life very late. He was moving on to a different stage of his life, and I feared that the connection that we had made would be lost. The inevitable was coming: I was going to lose him.
As the time passed, it could be argued that we did lose each other. But at the same time, I am at peace. We have talked a couple times between then and now, and every time we do, it is almost as if we are picking up where we left off. He still sounds the same. His hugs I still yearn for and his smile will always make me weak in the knees. But I know that though he was not meant for me, he was introduced into my life for a purpose.
He gave me hope to keep going.
I hope that this year, we all find people like that in our life. I hope that this year, we become that special person in other peoples' lives. What is the purpose of life? It is to be happy and to live our lives to the full.
So what does it mean to be truly loved?
If you are happy with what you have, then you are already experiencing love. It may not always be about the grand gestures, the flowers, the love letters - maybe it's just a simple smile and encouraging words from your own "Purple".
And if that is all that it is, then I am experiencing an abundance of love already.
Love more, live through your love, and spill some more ink while you're at it.
As teenagers with raging hormones, the feelings of "acceptance", "love", "friendship" and "belonging" are all feelings that seem to always be on the forefronts of our minds. We're always striving to find ways for people to like us for what we can offer rather than who we truly are. We always hide behind the facade of "this is who I want the world to see me as" rather than living life as ourselves.
Because really, who else can do ourselves justice than... ourselves?
This has been a topic of major confusion and frustration in my life in the past several months. As a young kid I never really found a place in the social ladder that we call school. I was never a cool kid - I was usually the kid that liked to read over speak, I was terrible at sports and therefore usually picked last to be on any team and I had a hard time voicing my opinions in fear of being judged. Growing up never makes it easier, as I seemed to grow more and more into my introverted personality.
However, many people that know me well call me a walking oxymoron - yes, my parts of my personality contradicts other parts of my personality.
I am as loud as I am soft; I am as outgoing as I am shy. But one thing is for certain: I still do not really know where I belong in the world.
Why is it so important that we find a niche - a place to call our own?
The feeling of loneliness eats at my soul sometimes, and yet, sometimes loneliness is the one thing that I need to escape the realities of the world. I am trying to find people that accept me for me. I want to find people that like me for who I am and people that can be themselves around me.
Why is it that I feel like I have to pretend to get people to like me?
It's more time consuming, as I am starting to realize now, to please everyone. The reality of life is that not everyone will get along with everyone else. Trying to please everyone may not make them like you, and in fact, it may cause you to lose yourself.
So why spend time pretending to be someone that you are not?
Why do we chase after love? It gives us a sense of belonging, of importance, of happiness. But maybe, we are all interpreting love in different ways, and maybe that is why we are all so confused.
Speaking for myself, I know that I tend to fall too quickly, trust too soon and take everything seriously. That is just who I am - when I meet someone that I can relate to and makes me feel comfortable, I want to share something special with them. I want to convince myself that this is a special person in my life. I want to see that this person feels the same way about me.
I have had the privilege to meet certain people that have given me the feelings of hope and happiness in the time that I had met them. These are people in my life that have given me the strength and the courage to carry on in my life.
There was once a boy that I met, who shall be named Purple (strange? maybe, but that's between us) that gave me this strength despite the short time we had known each other. Purple had a beautiful smile, one that made me forget all my troubles. He was wise and quiet and he gave the best hugs. Though he was older than me he never talked down at me. He made me feel equal to him, because, "we are really not that different in this world".
Unfortunately, or fortunately, Purple was introduced into my life very late. He was moving on to a different stage of his life, and I feared that the connection that we had made would be lost. The inevitable was coming: I was going to lose him.
As the time passed, it could be argued that we did lose each other. But at the same time, I am at peace. We have talked a couple times between then and now, and every time we do, it is almost as if we are picking up where we left off. He still sounds the same. His hugs I still yearn for and his smile will always make me weak in the knees. But I know that though he was not meant for me, he was introduced into my life for a purpose.
He gave me hope to keep going.
I hope that this year, we all find people like that in our life. I hope that this year, we become that special person in other peoples' lives. What is the purpose of life? It is to be happy and to live our lives to the full.
So what does it mean to be truly loved?
If you are happy with what you have, then you are already experiencing love. It may not always be about the grand gestures, the flowers, the love letters - maybe it's just a simple smile and encouraging words from your own "Purple".
And if that is all that it is, then I am experiencing an abundance of love already.
Love more, live through your love, and spill some more ink while you're at it.
Tuesday, November 19, 2013
The Numbers Game
So on Monday we got our progress reports out to show us how we're doing, from the beginning of the year until now. It was the same as any other time this occurred in the past couple years: we would leave our last block early, walk to our homerooms with a feeling of hope and dread in our hearts, and then the anticipation of skimming over the numbers, the letters, the comments... it all amounted to this moment.
But Monday was different. Yes, the travelling was the same. The beat of my heart quickened as the paper connected with my hand. Greedily I placed it at a safe distance away from my peers as I skimmed over the letters, the comments...
...And the numbers?
There were no numbers.
The boxes that usually housed our percentages for the time being was uncharacteristically empty, and it left a strange taste in my mouth.
Some teachers explained that these numbers are skewed, and I totally understand that. Since the beginning of the year we have only had a handful of tests and assignments that have been taken in for marks; therefore, it is an unrealistic snapshot of how we are doing academically. Others thought that we should stop being number driven, and every day should be a day to improve.
I agree with all of these, but at the same time, I can't help but wonder about what my "A" or "B" could really be. For all I know, I could have gotten a really high B on the verge of an A, or a really low A that is still counted as just that. The thing is, I will only wonder and I will never actually know.
Does this make us too number driven?
With some university and scholarship applications, we are asked to self report grades, which include putting in final averages. Simon Fraser University has already put out admission averages that they predict students will need in order to "secure" themselves a spot in a certain faculty for the coming school year. People constantly beat themselves up for not getting the coveted 100% on the top of their paper.
Why are we like that? Why am I like that?
Perfection might be a good reason. We all want to succeed, even if on the surface we have a "I don't really care" attitude. Because in reality, we all do, to some extent. A lot of us really don't know what's going to happen after high school. For that matter, something could happen tomorrow that could drastically change everything that you had originally planned.
In the end, numbers don't really mean a whole lot. They only go so far, but "a good decision is based on knowledge and not on numbers" (Plato). Sure, strive for those good grades. Reach for the stars, put off procrastination, and make this year YOUR year. But don't let it be the center of the universe and let it get you down if you don't do as well as you thought. Let it be a reminder that you slipped up once, but next time, well, there won't be a next time.
From now on, let's remember why we are really in school: to become better people for the future, and not to let percentages ruin our lives. I'm going to give it a shot and count on you to do the same!
/okay, I had to do that pun. I'm terribly sorry.. :P
But Monday was different. Yes, the travelling was the same. The beat of my heart quickened as the paper connected with my hand. Greedily I placed it at a safe distance away from my peers as I skimmed over the letters, the comments...
...And the numbers?
There were no numbers.
The boxes that usually housed our percentages for the time being was uncharacteristically empty, and it left a strange taste in my mouth.
Some teachers explained that these numbers are skewed, and I totally understand that. Since the beginning of the year we have only had a handful of tests and assignments that have been taken in for marks; therefore, it is an unrealistic snapshot of how we are doing academically. Others thought that we should stop being number driven, and every day should be a day to improve.
I agree with all of these, but at the same time, I can't help but wonder about what my "A" or "B" could really be. For all I know, I could have gotten a really high B on the verge of an A, or a really low A that is still counted as just that. The thing is, I will only wonder and I will never actually know.
Does this make us too number driven?
With some university and scholarship applications, we are asked to self report grades, which include putting in final averages. Simon Fraser University has already put out admission averages that they predict students will need in order to "secure" themselves a spot in a certain faculty for the coming school year. People constantly beat themselves up for not getting the coveted 100% on the top of their paper.
Why are we like that? Why am I like that?
Perfection might be a good reason. We all want to succeed, even if on the surface we have a "I don't really care" attitude. Because in reality, we all do, to some extent. A lot of us really don't know what's going to happen after high school. For that matter, something could happen tomorrow that could drastically change everything that you had originally planned.
In the end, numbers don't really mean a whole lot. They only go so far, but "a good decision is based on knowledge and not on numbers" (Plato). Sure, strive for those good grades. Reach for the stars, put off procrastination, and make this year YOUR year. But don't let it be the center of the universe and let it get you down if you don't do as well as you thought. Let it be a reminder that you slipped up once, but next time, well, there won't be a next time.
From now on, let's remember why we are really in school: to become better people for the future, and not to let percentages ruin our lives. I'm going to give it a shot and count on you to do the same!
/okay, I had to do that pun. I'm terribly sorry.. :P
Sunday, November 17, 2013
Perfection
Let's be completely honest with ourselves: girls tend to have a more difficult time with acceptance, especially with their appearance. I myself have battled numerous fights, trying to come to peace with my body. I've tried tons of fad diets, spent more and more money on clothes and make up and yes, even gotten to that point where I had become upset with myself and how I looked on the outside.
In retrospect, I know that I seemed superficial, and to this day, sometimes I feel the same disappointment: too many zits, not skinny enough, no thigh gap... it seems like there isn't one right thing about my body and my appearance!
But hold on, take a second to stop and think.
Our bodies are one of the most powerful machines. We have to power to think and operate and we can do many things that other machines cannot. We are all different in appearance, and we are special that way. Just because we may be a different size, shape, hair colour or skin tone as your best friend, it doesn't make you any less beautiful or vice versa. If we all looked the same and uniform, like robots, how will you ever find someone to fall in love with? You would just be falling in love with yourself, and that might be kind of boring!
The other day I heard on the news that even guys are beginning to feel more self conscious about their appearance. This is a sad reality that now, pretty much everyone is paranoid about how they are perceived by others based on their outward appearance.
Now, it's one thing to want to look good, but it's another thing to be completely obsessed with looking "perfect".
What is perfection, though? How much money do we have to spend on clothes, cosmetics, and even the extreme surgeries until we are good enough?
The point is, as human beings, we will never be satisfied. Where we will fix one aspect about ourselves, there will always be something else to correct. The first step to acceptance is to be content with what you have, and the rest will follow suit.
For me, I had always been afraid of showing my legs. During the summer it became a challenge, because I found the weather to be too hot, but at the same time, I found that my legs were far too fat. I tried numerous work outs and tried to eat less so as to make my legs look skinnier. I was always disgusted with them: they were fat and jiggled when I walked. But after hearing about Spencer West, a man whose legs were amputated below the pelvis because of a genetic disorder, I knew that I had nothing to complain about. I had the opportunity to listen to him speak at the 2013 We Day in Vancouver, and the way that he was able to walk on his hands onto the stage, and then onto his chair, made me realize how lucky I was and how strong he is. Spencer even climbed Mount Kilimanjaro in 2012, with his two hands!
After reading this article, I felt ashamed to hate my legs. If Spencer climbed Mt. Kilimanjaro with no legs, what complaints should I have? None whatsoever.
Now is a good time to move forward. Now is a good time to be thankful for our bodies and what they help us do. I have a cut out from a Seventeen magazine that has a simple question on it: "Have you thanked your body lately?"
And so, I have a challenge for you, should you choose to accept it.
We are beautiful, and I know it. We all have our differences but that's what makes us special. None of us need to be ashamed of who we are. None of us should be feel that we are any less beautiful because we don't look like Victoria Secret models.
Tomorrow is Monday, and I challenge all girls to go makeup free. I'm not sure what guys can do, but for girls, tomorrow will be "Make-Up Free Monday". Why should we let this dictate how beautiful we are? We are all unique and genuinely beautiful, and we should remember that true beauty comes from within.
Tomorrow, I will be going make up free, and I hope you will too!
In retrospect, I know that I seemed superficial, and to this day, sometimes I feel the same disappointment: too many zits, not skinny enough, no thigh gap... it seems like there isn't one right thing about my body and my appearance!
But hold on, take a second to stop and think.
Our bodies are one of the most powerful machines. We have to power to think and operate and we can do many things that other machines cannot. We are all different in appearance, and we are special that way. Just because we may be a different size, shape, hair colour or skin tone as your best friend, it doesn't make you any less beautiful or vice versa. If we all looked the same and uniform, like robots, how will you ever find someone to fall in love with? You would just be falling in love with yourself, and that might be kind of boring!
The other day I heard on the news that even guys are beginning to feel more self conscious about their appearance. This is a sad reality that now, pretty much everyone is paranoid about how they are perceived by others based on their outward appearance.
Now, it's one thing to want to look good, but it's another thing to be completely obsessed with looking "perfect".
What is perfection, though? How much money do we have to spend on clothes, cosmetics, and even the extreme surgeries until we are good enough?
The point is, as human beings, we will never be satisfied. Where we will fix one aspect about ourselves, there will always be something else to correct. The first step to acceptance is to be content with what you have, and the rest will follow suit.
For me, I had always been afraid of showing my legs. During the summer it became a challenge, because I found the weather to be too hot, but at the same time, I found that my legs were far too fat. I tried numerous work outs and tried to eat less so as to make my legs look skinnier. I was always disgusted with them: they were fat and jiggled when I walked. But after hearing about Spencer West, a man whose legs were amputated below the pelvis because of a genetic disorder, I knew that I had nothing to complain about. I had the opportunity to listen to him speak at the 2013 We Day in Vancouver, and the way that he was able to walk on his hands onto the stage, and then onto his chair, made me realize how lucky I was and how strong he is. Spencer even climbed Mount Kilimanjaro in 2012, with his two hands!
After reading this article, I felt ashamed to hate my legs. If Spencer climbed Mt. Kilimanjaro with no legs, what complaints should I have? None whatsoever.
Now is a good time to move forward. Now is a good time to be thankful for our bodies and what they help us do. I have a cut out from a Seventeen magazine that has a simple question on it: "Have you thanked your body lately?"
And so, I have a challenge for you, should you choose to accept it.
We are beautiful, and I know it. We all have our differences but that's what makes us special. None of us need to be ashamed of who we are. None of us should be feel that we are any less beautiful because we don't look like Victoria Secret models.
Tomorrow is Monday, and I challenge all girls to go makeup free. I'm not sure what guys can do, but for girls, tomorrow will be "Make-Up Free Monday". Why should we let this dictate how beautiful we are? We are all unique and genuinely beautiful, and we should remember that true beauty comes from within.
Tomorrow, I will be going make up free, and I hope you will too!
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