You just need a little perspective. I feel like I just wrote about perspective a couple posts ago, but I feel like it's something that I lose too often. The perspective I've realized recently is how good I've got it.
So, I go to school and live in San Jose California. Sounds like a random place, and let me tell you, it is. I honestly had never heard of here until I applied here in fall of 2009. But then, I took a tour of the school. The school is right in the middle of down town. It's an awesome campus that is sadly under an extreme amount of construction right now, but that's beside the point. Anyways, I was driving around down town the other day running my petty errands that must get run when I really started to notice the city around me. It's not the cleanest but it sure is pretty. It's beautifully chaotic if you will.
If you start in the middle of campus and head east, you will eventually reach my house. I live in what is known as Naglee Park. Naglee is a quaint little neighborhood that is seriously awesome! If you head north or south of campus you will eventually reach more neighborhoods. These neighbor hoods aren't necessarily the cleanest or safest of downtown. And, if you head west you run into big buildings. The random kinds and the important kinds. I've always wondered who works in those buildings, I guess I'll have to adventure one day and see. But, basically what I am saying is San Jose is full of good and bad, nice and not so nice, and fortunate and not so fortunate. I live in a city that is hurting, and thirsty for love, but doesn't realize it. We have had shootings and stabbings this semester off campus and on campus. I take it for granted how good I have it when I'm cooped up in my house all day. I forget that just 3 blocks away someone is cold out on the street. I take it for granted that I live with 7 other girls-7 other friends- while people all over this city are alone. I guess this post is just me rediscovering how great I have it compared to other people who live in this city. But hey it's a realization that sometimes, I need to keep making. Because although I may be stressed out about homework or what ever my week has in store for me, I need to realize that I don't have it half bad.
Sunday, October 23, 2011
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
Tonight my friends,
I am going to let you into my world. I'm opening up. So It's been a while since I posted, but do not fear, for I have not forgotten about you. I've just been busy. Beyond busy. I'm taking this moment to procrastinate and share with you, my dear reader, how I learned about love. I wrote this for a contest, in which I won't hear back from until after Christmas. The prompt was something like how did you learn how to love, from who? So here goes nothing:
Love
There are very few things in this world that are as complicated as love. In all honesty, I haven’t found anything that is more inexplicable and more exhilarating than the small four-letter word. The word itself takes on so many different meanings and explanations that, although one may try, it is almost impossible to pinpoint the exact meaning. I have found love in numerous places. There is a love that died for me in the form of a savior, which is unending and undeserved. There is a love that is the unconditional form of parenthood, when two people willingly sacrifice all that they have in order to improve their child’s life and circumstances. And there is love that just happens, it creates a lifetime bond of irreplaceable friendship. All of these have many commonalities: including trust, companionship, and compassion. These types of love are all equally beautiful and difficult. Love takes work, but all of these types of love are worth the effort.
One small instance in particular makes me think of love. I had a hangnail. I’m sure I’ve had hundreds of hangnails since I was three, but this one stands out to me immensely. I can’t tell you what finger it was on or why I made such a fuss about not wanting to cut it off, but I assure you that this hangnail taught me something about love.
When I was a child, I spent every weekday with a babysitter while my parents worked. Her name was Veda and she was a woman with a heart worth its weight in gold. I was taken care of at her house until I was old enough to stay home alone after school. And even then I wasn’t a fan of being alone so I would walk across the street and talk with Veda. She was there for my first word, my first stumble, my first high school dance, and many other firsts. She was in many ways my adopted grandma, and in many more ways, my friend. I was three when she taught me the meaning of love. I was an adventurous three years old, constantly getting into trouble. I often adorned skinned up knees and dirt under my nails as a badge of honor, because they were a regular occurrence. After a long day of play, Veda would end the day with a bath before I was sent across the street to my parents. One day, she noticed that I had a hangnail on one of my fingers. Experience now shows that if you tried to peel it off, you would pull off more skin than you expected. I would have been left bleeding and in pain for longer than necessary because I wanted to pull hangnail off. However Veda stopped me before I could get to it. She told me very soothingly that she would cut it off for me. My first thought: “there is no way a pair of clippers going to cut my skin, I am not alright with that.” I began crying and pleading with her not to cut it off. This is what I remember from that moment. Veda got down to my three-year old height, and looked me in the eyes and said, “I would never do anything in the whole world to hurt you. I love you, and only want what is best for you.” Sure, these are simple words that you expect to hear from a family member like your grandmother, but these words came from a friend. She meant every single word of it too.
Those words were simple. She possibly could have said the same thing many times before. But these words solidified the vague concept of love at a young age. I knew the love of my parents at that time, and discovered their love more as I grew older. Still, Veda’s words have stuck with me, “I would never do anything in the whole world to hurt you. I love you, and only want what is best with you”. I was three years old, but I still knew what she meant. I knew instantly that love wasn’t about flowers and candy on Valentines Day. At that moment love made sense. Love is about wanting the best for someone even though it hurts you to see the one you love crying. Love is about wanting the best for someone, even if that means you have to be the bad guy. Love is about faith and tenderness.
Those words she said to me are shown in every illustration of love. The unearned love of a savior who wants nothing but the best for you, a savior that wouldn’t do anything in the whole wide world to hurt you. The unconditional love of parents. Parents who sacrificed their weekends to tournaments and clarinet lessons. Parents who would do anything in the world to better their daughter’s life. The love of a best friend, the love that is magnificently irreplaceable. Although I may have been three years old, I remember each world Veda said to me clearly. These words have taught me to love fearlessly and carefully and be willing and open to accept love.
So now you have it. How I learned how to love.
Hope you enjoyed!!
One small instance in particular makes me think of love. I had a hangnail. I’m sure I’ve had hundreds of hangnails since I was three, but this one stands out to me immensely. I can’t tell you what finger it was on or why I made such a fuss about not wanting to cut it off, but I assure you that this hangnail taught me something about love.
When I was a child, I spent every weekday with a babysitter while my parents worked. Her name was Veda and she was a woman with a heart worth its weight in gold. I was taken care of at her house until I was old enough to stay home alone after school. And even then I wasn’t a fan of being alone so I would walk across the street and talk with Veda. She was there for my first word, my first stumble, my first high school dance, and many other firsts. She was in many ways my adopted grandma, and in many more ways, my friend. I was three when she taught me the meaning of love. I was an adventurous three years old, constantly getting into trouble. I often adorned skinned up knees and dirt under my nails as a badge of honor, because they were a regular occurrence. After a long day of play, Veda would end the day with a bath before I was sent across the street to my parents. One day, she noticed that I had a hangnail on one of my fingers. Experience now shows that if you tried to peel it off, you would pull off more skin than you expected. I would have been left bleeding and in pain for longer than necessary because I wanted to pull hangnail off. However Veda stopped me before I could get to it. She told me very soothingly that she would cut it off for me. My first thought: “there is no way a pair of clippers going to cut my skin, I am not alright with that.” I began crying and pleading with her not to cut it off. This is what I remember from that moment. Veda got down to my three-year old height, and looked me in the eyes and said, “I would never do anything in the whole world to hurt you. I love you, and only want what is best for you.” Sure, these are simple words that you expect to hear from a family member like your grandmother, but these words came from a friend. She meant every single word of it too.
Those words were simple. She possibly could have said the same thing many times before. But these words solidified the vague concept of love at a young age. I knew the love of my parents at that time, and discovered their love more as I grew older. Still, Veda’s words have stuck with me, “I would never do anything in the whole world to hurt you. I love you, and only want what is best with you”. I was three years old, but I still knew what she meant. I knew instantly that love wasn’t about flowers and candy on Valentines Day. At that moment love made sense. Love is about wanting the best for someone even though it hurts you to see the one you love crying. Love is about wanting the best for someone, even if that means you have to be the bad guy. Love is about faith and tenderness.
Those words she said to me are shown in every illustration of love. The unearned love of a savior who wants nothing but the best for you, a savior that wouldn’t do anything in the whole wide world to hurt you. The unconditional love of parents. Parents who sacrificed their weekends to tournaments and clarinet lessons. Parents who would do anything in the world to better their daughter’s life. The love of a best friend, the love that is magnificently irreplaceable. Although I may have been three years old, I remember each world Veda said to me clearly. These words have taught me to love fearlessly and carefully and be willing and open to accept love.
So now you have it. How I learned how to love.
Hope you enjoyed!!
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