Balance

I'm often told that life is about balance; we have to balance the work with the play, listening with talking, thinking with feeling, what we want to do with what we need to do, friends withs boyfriends, and etc. Obviously, at different times, one is superior to the other and just maybe the great obstacle in life that overshadows all of the other details is hope to keep this balance and how to be happy within this balance, even if it means we must live without something for a period of time.
I think deep down we all strive for this balance between making ourselves happy and making others happy. I may only be 20, but I have learned that this is a fine line and a difficult one with which to balance one's self. Perhaps, I'm entirely too consumed in making myself happy that I don't want to think about sacrificing myself to many people. This brings up the thought of a relationship. It's been over a year since my last serious relationship. It scares me to death to get involved with anyone because I don't want to become the girl who loses herself when I'm involved with a guy. I would lose this respect I have for myself; a respect that has taken a while to get. It isn't even that I want a serious relationship; I want fun. I like fun. That sounds dumb to say, but I want a relationship that will be fun and exciting. I don't want to be entirely wrapped up in him and I don't want him to be entirely wrapped up in me that we cannot breathe without each other. Because, lets be real: We all have friends who do that and we all cannot stand when a girl cannot detach herself from her boyfriend's hip to have a girls' movie night.
I know there's a balance and maybe I'm just scared of becoming that girl friend who sucks at being a girlfriend with my boyfriend and a reliable girlfriend to my best girl friends...

Sans class and a visit with the fam

Friday I finished my dreaded physics class and took off for my mom's for the night. A three hour drive that ended with not being able to get my keys out of the ignition. Though frustrating (and plan ruining) my plans were switched to meeting my mom and her boyfriend and my little brother for dinner. Of course, my keys were easily removed from the ignition with difficulty (that time) and I was embraced in the arms of my eight year old brother. At first, I thought: "Well great; I'm not making it to that party now.", but the warm, welcoming hug around my neck from my brother reminded just how wonderful it feels to feel the love of a child-- especially a sibling. The truth is, he's probably the most important person to me in the world. As we are 12 years apart, we don't have many things in common and my mom frequently tells her friends she "has two only children". I worry about my future in college, exercise, running, parties with friends, twelve page papers, reference pages, due dates, and grades while my brother worries about snack time, Wii, xBox, swimming in the pool, ABC order, and if pizza is acceptable for breakfast. I have always seen these differences, but I know we have at least one thing in common-- Love. From the moment my brother entered this world, I have loved him from his head to his toes. There's something magnificent about watching a little brother grow and to grow with him. I'm amazed by this little guy more and more each day. I helped teach him how to tie his shoes, search Google, and make his bed (which he doesn't like to do-- go figure).

We may not have a lot in common, but we have our Sibling Love and damn if that ain't something that's magnificent in itself. I'll always looked forward to that welcoming hug, the yelling "Love ya" through the house, and the "LA" that greets me as I walk through the front door.

Summer School & Work

I haven't written in forever, and I plan to change that... Starting right now.

For the past two year I've been busting my butt (okay, the past year and a half I've been busting my butt) in college to get into the Honors Program and I have successfully done this. A huge accomplishment and personal goal of mine. But now, I find myself in this physics class trying to pull a C and that's just not like me at all. I'm not interested in the class at all; my mood shifts to terrible the minute I pick up the physics book or log onto WebAssign to do the dreaded physics problems, which require a scientific calculator. I have grown to hate my scientific calculator and all of its "functions". It is successfully functioning in driving me insane!
Normally, even if I hate the class, I can sit down and force myself to do the work. This class is an exception and it's painful (physically and mentally) just to look at the kitchen table covered with books for class. When it comes to the concept of force, apparently, I'm uncapable of doing this. There are only two days left of this class and I will force myself to do the work.

Though my GPA will not be overly pleased, as I have struggled through these last three weeks, my body loves me. In the midst of the long hours at the table, I have (re)decided to take up running. I've never felt better (mentally or physically). All of this running is paying off in my tennis playing as well, which I started playing about three months ago. If it weren't for my love of softball through high school, I would have definitely played tennis. Tennis is definitely a new love of mine along with running.
Running and I have had quite a relationship--- I used to hate it, then senior year I ran cross country and began to slowly fall in love with it. Maybe I forced myself to love it, because my boyfriend also ran and the primary reason I joined the team was because of him. Let me clarify: I loathed running for the longest time, it was the bane of my existence. I fell into that, I'm in high school and should love everything my boyfriend loves. And let's be honest, that just isn't generally the case, nor should it be. It sucks it took me a little longer to learn that, but I'm glad I did (eventually).
Nevertheless, I started loving running for my own reasons or maybe I restarted loving running for my own reasons. Regardless, I love running and through loving running I think I'm learning to love myself through running. Other runners know exactly what I'm talking about: it's the feeling I get after stepping out the door and I look to the road for the answers to the questions that bother me so. When I have my running shoes on, I feel like I have control. I can choose my destination and for how long I'll run. Yet, at the same time, I feel like I'm in control of nothing as I look at the trees and the deer in the open fields. The past month, running has helped me to "deal" with a lot. Life has a way of being fabulous and terrible often concurrently. Presently, I'm trying to teach myself to see the fabulous rather than the terrible. Thus, in thinking about my physics class: There are only 4 assignments left, 3 experiments, and a test to do. On the terrible side: There are 4 assignments left, 3 experiments, and a test to do. Yep, it's all due tomorrow (and it will get done), but I'm dragging my ass on the homework and sprinting to my running shoes (as soon as I'm done with work at 3).


I'm happy I've learned how great running can be for me. I missed my morning run on account of my physics homework (a total bummer), but I had to get it done. Now, I'm at work and all I can think about it the run I wish I had taken this morning.
Yes, I'm addicted. Yes, I'm proud of it.