Category: About Me

About Me, Church Life, Friendship, Life Lessons

A Step Back

There is something incredibly powerful about being in community.  Its encouraging, enlightening, and empowering.  If you are slightly introverted like myself, it is also exhausting.  Which is why I have learned the value of taking a step back.

Taking a step back from a stressful situation can reintroduce the big picture into your stream of consciousness.

Taking a step back from your inner turmoil can help you reprioritize.

Taking a step back from the constantly streaming to-do list, post-it notes, deadlines, and responsibilities can help you be human.

Tonight, taking a step back meant sitting in the chapel garden and gazing at underlit leaves that seemed to shine against the pitch black night.  Instead of standing shoulder to shoulder in a hot, packed, chapel, I sat alone on a bench and closed my eyes and felt the cool of stillness.  In no way am I insinuating that I felt ostracized from worship or this beneficial gathering.

Sometimes, there is greater beauty in the observance than the participation.  To be still for a few minutes and hear at least a hundred of my classmates sing that “naught be all else to me save what thou art”  was moving to say the least.  There is nothing wrong with group worship and it is an amazing thing.  Yet sometimes, it makes it too easy for me to focus on me.  My worship, my experience, my catharsis.  Taking a step back allows me to realign.

I want to walk around seeing the value in everything: every person, experience, and situation instead of walking around only focusing on what will validate me.

About Me

Dusty Old Cabinets

setting:  on my friend’s laptop in her room with the remnants of our post-homecoming dance snack (pretzels and peanut butter, goldfish, and the chips I snagged from the Gedunk)

My friend is asleep on the rug but I am most certainly awake.  More accurately, I am very full of life.  Full of the fullness of a life that is brimming with new people and ideas and memories.  I suppose every memory is a new one for a second before it gets filed in a dusty old cabinet in between my 10th birthday party and the conversation I had last week.  That’s the odd thing about my memory.  It doesn’t prioritize at all.  I can remember the large events with the same clarity as the obscure details. I can quote someone I was talking with a month ago word-for-word and recall the moment I learned to ride my bike as if both were synonymous in importance and both happened five minutes ago.

Yet I forget a lot.  Or I confuse a lot.  I mix up what one person has told me with someone else’s story.  Faces can blur together sometimes.  I might get the main framework of something right but completely blank out on the details.  I’ll remember that you had three tests and a quiz and a potentially awkward confrontation and I’ll even remember to ask you about it afterwards but have no idea what the subjects were in or who the conversation was with.

I did not intend to write upon memory tonight but since I seem to be making memories a mile a minute here, I suppose it was quite appropriate.  I will probably remember tonight, for instance.  My first homecoming at Grove City College which was quite fun and memorable.  I’m hoping I’ll remember a lot of these first four weeks here which is why I need to keep blogging so I can keep an external mental hard drive of sorts.  More reflection on college later to come.

Until next time,
Chloe of life

About Me, Change, Life Lessons

The Essence of Me

I have a funny habit of running experiments on myself.  Before you jump to any conclusions,  I do not have little bubbling jars of neon liquids in my room (you’re welcome roommates)  Its just that I like to gaze into the abyss that is the future, place myself there, observe how I think I’ll react to a new situation, and then see if my hypothesis is correct in post-future retrospect.  That last sentence made absolutely no sense and I will now try to redeem it.  Here is a practical example:

When arriving at college, the expectations and reputation that I had gathered as the Chloe of Clarkston disappeared.  I knew this would be the case and so I was eagerly anticipating my actions, thoughts, friend choices, etc… to see who I would be.  Turns out, I’m quite like the Chloe of Clarkston.

Instead of being disappointed that I didn’t create some whole new personality, I’m quite relieved.  I am still spontaneously introverted, mysteriously happy in the morning no matter how much sleep I get, in love with my calender and post-its and color-coding, dedicated to studying to death, addicted to quality conversations, in awe of my amazing God, and loving the people around me.

Not much has changed, yet everything has changed.  Everything external is different, new, and changing at a mile a minute. The essence of me; however, has been delightfully consistent.  Of course, this means that I still am struggling through the same weaknesses but I have a new courage and drive to defeat them.  I am completely open to change (see last post) but do not see myself surrendering my color-coding pens anytime soon.  Speaking of, my calender is telling me that its time to continue my Genesis overload.

Until next time,
the Chloe of anywhere

About Me, Writing

“If Time is of the Essence Then it is the Essence of Time that Ought to Direct our Stumbling Steps”

Before my trusty thumb drive, I used to email myself assignments and essays from school so I could work on them at home. I have some friends who, when they e-mail themselves, they attach a little note so they feel like they are getting email from their past selves. I used to do this, but honestly, I got tired of cyber-talking to myself. I do that enough in real life. I couldn’t bear to send a sad little blank email though. Instead, I started making up quotes and giving them fake authors. They were always delightfully ambiguous. The type of quotes that would be plastered on the wall in a high school English room. The type that people would read, shake their heads thoughtfully, comment on its profoundness, then walk away without any lasting impact made because they mean absolutely nothing.

“The road to success isn’t complete without a few flares along the way”  Charles Willson

“The feeling of pain never comes into the station alone–this is what makes it so unbearable.  Its friends are some of my worst enemies”  George Oversteen

I wondered what it would take to have a quote credited to you. To say something so worthwhile that it ends up plastered all over google when people search for quotes for their essays and speeches. Then I realized, no one will ever quote you unless you have some sort of credentials. For a quote to be truly powerful, then your name has to be powerful first.

This striked me as rather sad. It doesn’t matter so much how beautiful or meaningful the quote is. If the wrong person says the right thing, it means nothing. If the right person says anything, it means everything. Judging the quality of what someone has to say based on who they are instead of what they have to say seems unfair at best. I like to write meaningless quotes with meaningless people attached. Yet if I actually had something of value to say, it wouldn’t matter. My fake quotes would probably be taken more seriously, as long as I used a fake name that looked legitimate.

About Me, Friendship, Life Lessons, Writing

Standing on my Shallow Soapbox

Now is the time to write.  In the past, my creativity was being forcibly taken from me by a busy schedule and projects.  Conversations have also drained my ability to put coherent thoughts on a page, yet these I do not regret.  Typically, I have at least one nugget of an idea a day which I’d like to write about.  If I’m lucky, I write it down and don’t lose the scrap of paper.  Lately, however, I have had some very decent talks with some very decent people which gave me another outlet for thinking.  Good for myself and my friendships, bad for a blog.  To be honest, though, I’m not writing for whoever is reading this.

I can’t talk.  I’m always talking.  But not today.  And it’s killing me.  My soul is restless, I can feel the words, thoughts, phrases, and clauses, trying to come together.  They keep missing each other, like a failed high-five, an inch away from collision, a centimeter away from forceful contact.  This is my attempt to put them together so that I can feel the impact of words once again.

Today my blog is my soapbox.  I have completed high school which gives me a relatively shallow box to stand on and give advice, but it is my box and I am going to use it.

As a result of scholarships, senior awards night, and making an obnoxious amount of display boards and scrapbooks, I have come to two conclusions:
1)  I find myself quite annoying at times.  I feel like the poster child for anything and everything and if I could be someone else and know me, I’m not sure I’d want to.  This is the last time I will spend a concentrated amount of time reading about myself.  I much prefer reading about others.
2) It is my sincerest wish that my time in private school, home school, and public school does not simply add up to a resume of accomplishments, awards, and certificates.  I was looking at a sheet with all of those listed and realized that those things did not embody the success of my schooling, not by a long shot. This led me to reflect on the things that I did in high school that actually did matter and this is where things get a little soapbox-y.

I have met some of the most incredible people in high school, particularly in the last two years.  They aren’t the people that I was supposed to be associated with.  They weren’t friends because they boosted my outward reputation.  Sometimes we didn’t have that much in common.  The majority of them started off with poor first impressions and misjudgements.  So my word to the wise:  never overlook anyone.  Never write someone off after the first conversation, first month, or even first year.  People continue to surprise me with how much they add to my life and much of their value you probably won’t even realize until they are gone.  If you want to limit yourself to the people that approach you first, that are accepted by others, or don’t require you to exit your comfort zone, feel free.  You’ll miss out on knowing and learning from some of the most original and wonderful people you’ll ever know, but hey, at least it won’t be uncomfortable and you’ll always have that little group of friends that are exactly. just. like. you.

We are now drawing near to the end of my writing abilities.  Significant events generally spur on significant writing and while these past few weeks have certainly not been lacking in significance, I have only brushed the surface of their impact on me in this post.

Until I have more time,
Chloe

About Me

I am still here.

I’ve had a splendid childhood.  However, there are parts that I now have negative associations.  The odd thing is, whenever I think of those parts of my life, I tend to feel like I am thinking about someone else’s memories.  It doesn’t feel like it was me that couldn’t talk properly until she was 12 or danced for 10 years of her life or used to make excellent pottery in her spare time.  This is scan09_03_1130possibly because I can currently talk coherently, can’t dance to save my life, and my last pottery experiment looked like, well, an experiment.  I have changed yet that doesn’t mean that who I was isn’t part of who I am now.
My eager anticipation for everything and anything.  I still get flutters every time I check the mail even if I am expecting absolutely nothing.  You just never know.
My ability to talk to inanimate objects.  Most of the clocks, shower curtains, and lamps in my house have personalities.  They don’t talk back anymore sadly but there is still an aura about them.  For example, the clock in the downstairs bathroom is incredibly lonely while the living room one is quite shy.
My desire to talk in general.  To be quite honest, my estimation of you will go up tenfold if we can hold a decent conversation that moves past weather and school.  I am not completely against small talk but I prefer discussing something that actually has value.  Personal preference.  I will overuse the word conversationalist when describing someone I respect and enjoy.
My inability to stop.  Stop thinking, stop wondering, stop working.  Productivity fuels me.  Complacency stifles me.
My insatiable desire for books.  I may have moved from historical fiction to biographies but I still sneak down to my basement and pick up a few Goldenbind books once in a while.  Nothing but the classics.

So, yes there are things that seem so un-Chloe that I cannot believe that I was the same girl as the one in the picture.  Yet if you look past the straight hair, I am still there.  I am still here.  And I always will be.

About Me

The Drawer

It’s full of odds and ends.  The junk drawer.  Where obscure items get shoved when your mom tells you to clean off the table.  In my house, there is this weird thing where we refuse to acknowledge that we have such a drawer.  But we do.  Just no one wants to admit it.

Good job, you made it through the intro.  This post is an odds and ends drawer.  A few random thoughts that are not quite meaty enough to have their very own post.  So they end up here.

#11.  Random Acts of Kindness
Guess what?!?  It is Random Acts of Kindness week next week!!  This is extremely exciting for me.  While it makes a nice theme for a week, it really is something that should be done year-round.  Give a friendly smile to a stranger, pay for the person behind you, clear off the windshield of the person next to you.  Come up with your own ideas!  There are some on the RAK website but they are pretty lame, more like things you should be doing everyday.

#86.  Valentine’s Day

If you are expecting some angry, bitter post on how Valentine’s Day is just a day to make everyone who doesn’t have a “special someone” feel horrible about themselves and that it is just Hallmark’s sneaky way of making everyone buy their overpriced pieces of card stock…..look elsewhere.  This is a positive outlook on the very controversial idea of love.  Everyone has had those impossible crushes.  Where you like someone one that has no clue or will never like you in return.  My friend describes it in a good way….you spend all the time when you are with them wanting them to notice you.  And then they leave.  And part of you slinks behind them.  It is at these times when love seems hopeless.  As Charlie Brown put it, “Nothing takes the taste out of a peanut better sandwich like unrequited love.” So, when you think about it….two people being in love is pretty much a miracle.  The fact that two people could both like each other and gather up the courage to admit it and take that first step…..love is powerful, wonderful, and dangerous.  But I’m just talking about two people. Zoom out.  There is a God who loves you like crazy.  He created this incredible universe for us, and as a thank you we screw up.  All the time.  He is under no obligation to continue loving us or saving us.  But He does.  And His love isn’t just that highschooly crush-type stuff.  It’s the real thing.  He loves me even though I could never reciprocate fully while I consistently prove myself unworthy. Mind. Blown.

#24. Polychromatic Emotions.
“And how does that make you feel?”  That infamous psychologist line is very difficult for me to answer.  I don’t just have one emotion about ANYTHING.  It’s a mixture, a blend of colors and tones and hues and saturations.  I feel pretty purply with a splash of lime green and periwinkle.  How do you like me now Dr. Phil?  I’m pretty sure others feel the way I do.  Not only do emotions come in vivid bright colors (forget the boring black and white stuff) there is a full range of colors.  They mix and mingle with each other, the pigments smudging over the futile boundaries that we set up.  If I am happy, I am not simply happy.  I’m most likely joyful and ecstatic but maybe a little apprehensive since happiness rarely feels sincere for me.  Every decision comes with an entire palette of emotions, one for each pro and con on my flip chart.

#49.  An Uncharacteristically Stereotypical Blog Post
Usually, my blogs are about my thoughts and philosophies.  This little scrap is just about me.
I’m getting really excited for college.  There are so many possibilities that I am simultaneously delirious with happiness and paralyzed with fear.  Kind of a fuchsia feeling with some neon yellow mixed in.
I love Narnia.  I’ve loved the idea of another world ever since I started creating one when I was five (I’ll save that for another post someday).  I am a huge C.S. Lewis fan.  I have not read all of his books but am working through his essays currently.  I very much enjoy his logical way of presenting confusing ideas.
I have amazing friends.  I don’t have a group since I haven’t really stuck with one “extracurricular activity” long enough.  It’s more an eclectic cluster of people that inspire me, love me, and make me wish I could be a better friend to all of them.
Okay, my incredibly egotistical writing is done now.  Tell me something about you.

About Me, Writing

The One Thing Unfathomable

Music is moving.  It can move souls. It can transform lives. It can save lives. It can bring a nation to tears.  It can bring a stadium to its feet. It can define a generation.  It can define a human being.  The one thing that this all-powerful music can’t move? Me.

I’ve tried so hard to get into music.  I see how many people enjoy it and I see what a strong influence it can have.  But try as I might, music really doesn’t move me.  You might say this is because I don’t understand music.  You would be right.  My brain loves making supply and demand graphs and writing essays, but it can’t wrap itself around music.  This is how it usually goes down:

Me: “Listen to it. Feel it. How does the music make me feel right now?”
Brain: “Hungry. Oh wait, that’s just because you were too lazy to eat breakfast.”
Me: “No! Try again! What different instruments do you hear? How do they blend together?”
Brain: “Its all one thing! Music: •an artistic form of auditory communication incorporating instrumental or vocal tones in a structured and continuous manner”
Me: “I didn’t ask for a definition.  Let the music move you.  Connect with the music!”

At this point, my annoyingly sarcastic brain starts ignoring me and begins hatching some new plan on how to make an underwater trans-Atlantic highway leaving me quite alone to just stand there, straining to hear something that my brain refuses to listen to.  It’s frustrating to say the least.

The best I can do is concentrate on the lyrics.  See, what melodies and notes and the essence of all that is music is to you, is what words are to me.  The way they blend together, play off of each other, create meanings and skew meanings, that is beautiful to me.  I’m not just talking about poetry (which happens to be my least favorite genre).  Writing can say so much or so little.  It just is.  So, the music that I truly enjoy is the music that has  lyrics that I find the most significant.  I realize that good lyrics doesn’t mean good music but focusing on the words is the only way music and I can maintain a semi-amicable relationship.

It doesn’t help that my entire family was sprinkled with magical music dust at birth.  My dad has his degree in audio engineering, my mom can play various instruments, and my sister dances as her career.  The extended family is equally gifted (masters in music, organ players, violin players, soon-to-be in an orchestra trombone players).  Everyone……except for me.

If you are like my family and have a super deep connection with music, good for you.  Please don’t hate me or this blog.  Instead, go and listen or play some incredible music and enjoy it to its full capacity for me.  I’ll be sitting here with my words, typing……….and typing………..still typing…..

About Me, Organization

ONCE UPON A TIME AT OFFICE DEPOT  

If you were looking for a semi-somber, mostly introspective, and completely philosophical post, look elsewhere.  Today I am going to write about Office Depot.
Once upon a time a girl was traveling around the territories of Clarkston in her ’97 Mali-mobile.  One brightly lit neon sign caught her attention.  Office Depot  Those gleaming words attracted her.  Not like one enchanted; instead, she felt as if guided by an invisible hand through those glass double doors.  Here is where the happy violin music in the background stops.  For this was an abandoned, lonely Office Depot.  The employees gathered in small clumps and lit up at the sight of the newcomer.

“Do you need any assistance?”
“Can I help you?”
“What are you looking for today?”
“How can I be of assistance to you?”

The questions flew at the girl at 100 miles per hour and nearly knocked her off her feet, and worse, her mission.  She gathered her wits however and with a smile and “no thank you” she pointed her feet towards her destination.  It was a magical journey.

Walking past the brightly covered thumbtacks, she glanced longingly back yet continued on.  The planners were even a harder temptation.   Harder still, the graphic organizers made her stumble a moment as she stopped to examine the new arrivals.  Finally, she found her sought after item.  A pack of beautiful, pre-sharpened Ticonderoga pencils.  The packaging advertised that they were the best in the world. “How true that is,” she thought.  The way back was equally enthralling.  Mountains of brightly stacked post-it notes filled her heart with joy.  A rainbow of sharpies unfolded around her.  Her face was filled with wide-eyed wonder as she skipped through the aisle of paper.  College-ruled, neon colors, journals, notebooks, wide-ruled, hole-punched and red-lined.  All seemed to call out to her.  The only thing that dampened this glorious journey was the pack of desperate employees that seemed to be around every turn, eager to be of assistance.  She found it particular that no other consumers seemed to be enjoying this beautiful land of office supplies.

Five hours later, she made it out of this wonderland and back to the desolate parking lot.  Her trip was over, life must go on. yet she forever stored those images of organization and color-coded goodness in her mind and heart.

The End.

All right, I had my fun.  I clearly avoided anything deep or revealing.  Give me this then, just one new year’s resolution.  My resolution is to be less organized.  I’m too likely to compartmentalize my time and my relationships.  I believe I am in danger of requesting my friends to wear certain colors so I can color code them more easily.  I have a tendency to live by my to do list, which really isn’t living at all.  Even computers can obey a program.  My desire to is live with less lists and less spreadsheets.  Please try to hold me to it.  I promise I won’t brand you with my sharpies.

About Me

Random Rant

For some reason, I have a strange compulsion to share about myself. I have all these thoughts spinning around in my head and I’m starting to get dizzy. Plus, I am not focusing on my art history like I should. So perhaps this will help.

  1. I am a dreamer. I dream almost constantly. Not just when I’m sleeping and not just nice “here is what my future will look like” dreams. I imagine every scenario in my head, realistic or otherwise. It’s my type of escape. The only problem is, I often forget to come back to reality. So if you hear me talking or gesturing and I seem completely disconnected that’s probably exactly what has happened. I disconnect when things aren’t going well. I know eventually I’ll have to always live in this world but I don’t know what I’d do without my dreams.
  2. I have a bad habit of trying to make everyone happy. Not because it isn’t a noble goal, but because it is impossible. I try to be everything to everyone and I end up burned out. But I know I also am quite selfish. So its not that I am always giving or anything like that. I just change who I am to fill in voids way too easily.
  3. I love my job. Even though I rarely want to go, spending time with kids can make my day so much better. I like the fact that I’m needed and that there is someone always asking “Chloe, can I show you something?”
  4. I am horrible at lying to other people but amazing at lying to myself. I have figured out how to change my memories. While this helps with the rough patches in life, it also makes me doubt what really happened and can be quite confusing. I can seperate who I really and who I am being so I end up unsure of which is real. I’m sure I’ll figure it out someday soon.

I have more to say, but I think I’ve sufficiently emptied out my brain so I can now memorize more pieces of art. ta ta for now.