A Journal Entry (not very edifying)

Taking a break for a minute from the crazy, long winded writings I've been doing, I'm not really sure what I want to say. Just something lighthearted, something new.

In the violets blue
Lies the deepest hue
A purity so true
And morning's dew.

Of the roses red
Not much to be said;
Petals adorn their bed
And the hair on my head

I wish for so much...

Perhaps one of the greater heartaches for me has been to watch first one, then two, then the third of my friends develop relationships and I wind up on the backburner. Though perhaps that's to teach me something, maybe that I needed to realize I shouldn't act selfishly, or think in such a way that would be unbecoming. It's better now, I'm still alive and well, even better than well. The Lord has given me friends to love, He has gifted me with a wonderful family, as much as I may dislike their quarreling sometimes, I have my own bedroom, a job where I get to see children everyday... and you know, you get almost as emotional as the parents at graduation. Little Kaylee's going to kindergarten. And Hannah, Max, Audrey, and Kellan.

Some things I still am a bit ashamed of, feeling almost as if I'm too girly. On the way back from Mexico we stopped in at McD's for dinner, and (I don't even remember what I was referring to) I can recall saying something to the effect of, "I just would feel too girly." Why is that a bad thing? Girlish-ness was something I should've embraced, but it felt like I was not tough enough if I admitted to Pride & Prejudice being my all-time favorite chick flick.

Ever since kindergarten I can remember wanting to be on level with the boys. The church playground was this fenced in area, pretty sizeable, containing a swingset, one of those round things you pulled to get momentum going, then hopped on with your friends and tried not to fall off, and a few other attractions. I was wearing my Easter dress, one of my favorites, and these boys stood off to the side snickering. I can distinctly remember becoming indignant at something they said, and when they turned to face me, they taunted me saying I couldn't run as fast as boys could. "Oh yeah?" I retaliated and the next thing I know, we're lined up - two of the boys and I - and one kid yells, "READY?...... SET!...... GOOOOO!!!" And we were off. Pink ribbons flying, I ran steady around the fenced border and made it back to the starting line a split second before the others. That was a good feeling. Except I do remember it being kinda muddy, so I wonder what my mother's reaction must've been to my appearance... maybe it's a good thing I don't remember that.

Growing up for several years in the middle of nowhere, your only companions for the most part are your siblings. My brother and I did some crazy stuff. We caught frogs, raced bikes, played our own version of mini golf, made mud pies, climbed dirt mounds, and even the red dirt wall in the gun range. That was a nasty experience. To my horror, I discovered that not all rocks stuck in a wall of dirt will hold the weight of a ten year old. That was skin-up number one. Number two was also with my brother. To the left of our house was a short little road, but the part we cared about was the hill on which we would be able to pick up speed for sledding, biking, etc. So one day, Logan's riding the heavy duty tricycle and I want a turn. "Get on back!" he told me. As I could see this was the only way I'd be able to experience the thril of going downhill, I planted both my feet on the back and hunkered down. "Don't swerve, Logan!" "Wee, wee!" "Logaaaann!" "Wee, weeoopsss!" He hit a rock. We must've been going about 15 mph or so, maybe faster I don't know, when we hit a loose rock in the road and the trike skidded out from under us. He was fine. He landed on top of me. I was the one with the gash in the knee about an inch wide through which I could see something white. Blood was down to my ankle in less than a minute. Mom got me bandaged up in some gauze once I reached the house and dad popped in Star Trek Nemesis to cheer me up. (I know...)

All that to say I just though boys were cooler. They were tougher, stronger, and usually had more fun ideas than sitting inside baking bread with their moms. I never wanted to admit to liking getting my nails painted or wearing hair ribbons, and over time, I grew to dislike the aforementioned girly things. In many ways, I have learned to love the fact that I am indeed female, but I also had to understand that you can still be a girl and not like painting your nails pink, and not be in love with the Jonas Brothers (because the culture would like for me to think there's something wrong with my lack of interest in them), and it's okay that I don't have blonde hair like 98% of America's girl population. I still have two X chromosomes. God gave me different likes and looks from most of the girls I know, and it's only lately that I've been able to accept that I'm not going to be like anyone else. Being a girl doesn't mean that we come with the label of "meek" or "gentle" even though there are a few of us who are. Somehow, I don't think I'm quite that way either...

Elizabeth Bennet of Pride & Prejudice displays similar interests and embodies certain convictions about society which I too sympathize with. I love her wit, even though I also know what it's like when you get carried away and can be sharp tongued. It's the author though, Jane Austen, or rather her character in Becoming Jane, whom I feel I mirror though. A little afraid to speak her mind in front of authorities she respects, but daring enough to want to elope with the man who steals her heart, but then, realizing that if she carries through with her plan his family in Ireland will starve for lack of his pension, she relinquishes her desires for the benefits of others. At least, I'd hope I had the conviction to do what is best for others instead of being selfish.

I've spoken enough of myself now, tomorrow is a new day, and with it, a new sunrise (which in this case is referencing my early rising for work).