Somedays I just like to play popular music obnoxiously loud while reading about computer programming.

I feel like jumping around and up and down and tackling and tickling people.

I don’t want to be responsible and serious and calm and composed.  I want to be crazy and silly and slap happy and experience true hilarity.

I feel like being 5 and doing cartwheels everywhere that I want to go and I don’t know if its the nice weather or if I’ve finally snapped or my inner child is tired of being forced to be a young adult.

I’m also very tired and sleepy and maybe that’s why I don’t make any sense.


Here is a phenomenon about myself that I have never been able to understand.  Every once in a while, I start typing too quickly or too lazily and my hands get one key off.  Instead of making nice coherent sentences, everything comes out like s nunvh og hinnrtidh ( translation: a bunch of gibberish).  What I don’t understand is that I always follow this illogical pattern:

1) Notice that all the letters I typed on the screen aren’t actually forming words.
2) Frown
3) Erase the half page of gibberish.
4) Start typing again without fixing my hands.
5) Frown at my incompetence when I make the same mistake again. and again. and again.

It’s like running the vaccum over the same piece of string 50 times in a row because you are convinced that the 51st time will be the charm.

The sad thing is, I do this with my life too.   I wake up one day and realize that everything is a mess and run around like crazy trying to fix everything and once I do, continue living in the same way with out realigning my life with God.  Sometimes, its because I’m just going too fast to notice that something is wrong or I’m too stubborn to admit that the problem is me.  Either way, I don’t particularly like my life story being a bunch of gibberish.

Which is why I’m thankful for nights like this, when my schedule becomes so busy that I refuse to pick between four different plans and instead stay in my room and think and pray and realign.

It’s time to start making sense.


People-watching, the nice word for staring absently at everyone around you, is incredibly interesting and telling.  As much as I love to observe those who surround me, I also like to self-watch.  I try to separate the me that is aware of my surroundings and motivations and internal thoughts from my actual actions.  I pretend that I am someone else and observe what I do in given circumstances.  It’s a bit bizare but rather revealing.

Major Observation #1:  My reactions to happinness and stress and sadness and anger in life are all exactly the same.  When my emotions go to any extremes I generally isolate myself through headphones or location and scribble madly on a notebook or type wildly into this blog.

Major Observation #2:  Even though I write just as much when I am experiencing negative emotions as the positive ones, I rarely share the more “downer” pieces.  Mostly becaue I feel that my other writings aren’t as good and the world has enough hurt without me adding to it.  This being said, it isn’t too hard to figure out when I’m having a splendid day (like today).  It’s a bit more tricky the other way around unless you belong to the small group of people that can read me with scary accuracy.

Minor Observation #3:  I actually don’t have a minor observation.  Or another major one.  I just felt that if I had major observations than I should have minor ones as well.  For balance’s sake.

The Best Thing Since Sliced Bread

Cliches should be avoided like the plague.  If placed in a paper, they will be the death of said assignment.  Perhaps you are so unfortunate to have slipped one into conversation with a Cliche Catcher nearby.  You know these people.  As soon as you even start to say…”well, you know, the apple doesn’t…”

BAM!! They’ll interrupt you.  Every time.  With the one cliche that evidently is acceptable to use, because these Cliche Catchers will throw it in the middle of your sentence before that poor apple could even think about falling.

“That’s so cliche!” the Cliche Catcher says (extra emphasis on the “so”)  Using common phrases and idioms is evidently no longer allowed.  It’s just so……so cliche.  Avoid at all costs.

If you haven’t picked up on the sarcastic undertones yet, I personally find cliches to be useful at times.  An entire conversation of them might be annoying, but there is one that I find to be rather true.

“It’s the small things in life that count”  (or some derivative thereof).  I’d like to take that one step further.  If you stop enjoying and finding joy in the small things, eventually you will stop finding happiness in the big excitements as well.  You keep looking for something bigger and bigger to satisfy this need for the interesting, the new, the exciting, the fun.  The problem occurs because eventually there won’t be anything bigger and bigger.  What happens then?

Perhaps you stop the break-neck pace.  Perhaps you slow down and listen to frosty leaves flitting through the branches of the tree with speckled bark.  You begin to notice the adorable quirks of your best friends.  You rediscover the joy of an old song or book.  You enjoy life because you are living it.

We are our stories.

There are so many stories here.  I noticed this as I walked down the princess staircase this morning.  The stained glass streaming light onto this glamorous staircase was a small action shot of a knight riding his horse into battle.  If that isn’t the epitome of a classic story…..well, no need for cliches.  Any story involving a knight must be a good one.  I’ve been walking down that staircase for a few weeks and never even saw the knight before.  There are so many stories here.

The best ones aren’t even the ones captured in colored glass.  They are the ones in sweatshirts and jeans, hands in their pockets, shuffling past Rockwell. They are the ones that are chatting loudly outside of my window.  They are the ones down the hall, around the corner, and next to you in class.

These are stories that defy our English formula for literature.  They may have a beginning, but there is no end and while there is much rising action, the climax is yet to be written.  No one is really sure who the antagonist is here.  We can’t figure out if this is man vs. nature, or nature vs. nature, or why we have to be versus anything at all.  Sometimes, we don’t even know who the protagonist is but we hope they are a character that someone would like and want to cheer on.

There are so many unknowns and unwrittens to these stories that we tend to hide them.  The most we give out is a 300 word summary or back-of-the-book paragraph that is so vague it could be written about anyone.

College is mostly about learning.  Most of my homework is reading.  I’m reading about creating good ideas, the fall of Rome, how to record an adjusting entry, and the historical background of the book of Judges.  I’ve learned a good deal in the last six weeks and will continue to do so.  Yet I want to read more than textbooks or fiction.  I want to know more than dates or philosophies.  I want to begin with the stories that surround me.  After all, we are our stories.


I really am spending more time writng than I ought.  I should be reading and memorizing and studying.  I feel that’s a bit unfair though.  If I’m expected to keep soaking up information and knowledge, creating these giant stockpiles of thoughts in my brain than I think I should be allowed to turn the tables sometimes and release these ideas.

Besides, my entrepreneurship classes and books are always encouraging us to write and be creative.  I like it when I can find other things to justify myself with rather than just my own logic.

I realized lately that I do that a lot.  I create these little rules and mannerisms that help guide my life along.  No one else follows them but I don’t expect them to.  I like the idea that I can create up my own words if the ones I’ve been given aren’t working properly.  I like that I can create my own paths if the ones that are offered don’t look like ones I want to sojourn down.

Today, I am in one of the best moods possible as a result of a severe lack of sleep and a good amount of coffee.  I am just tired enough where nothing bothers me and have enough caffiene in my system to make everything peaceful and happy.  It’s one of those moods where I am almost impossible to knock down.  I don’t have to look for the silver lining on days like today.  All I can see is the silver, the clouds aren’t even existent.  I burned my tongue on my precious coffee today and instead of registering the pain, I smiled because my coffee was still hot.  Perhaps this foolish happinness is completely irrational, but I am determined to enjoy it today.

One of those little rules that I have is that I have empowered myself to dictate what kind of day I am going to have.  I decide whether it will be a happy day, a tired day, a reflective day, a sad day, and whatnot.  The type of day I have is completely distinct from my circumstances.  Its some kind of buffer I give myself that is built on a solid foundation of dellusion and denial.  It’s probably unhealthy, but it works quite well for me.

That’s another rule: I can do things that don’t make sense but if they work, I can continue doing them.  Today is a happy day.  As was yesterday.  Tomorrow is looking pretty good too.  Once I started deciding what kind of day I was going to have (I began this a few months ago) I have found that is very convenient to choose to have happy days the majority of time.  If you could pick what your day was going to be like, wouldn’t you go for the best possible?

Just a few disconnected thoughts

Nowadays, I have two motivations for blogging.  1)  I have studied in excess and am about to disconnect from this world, its lovely people, and sanity.  2)  I am waiting for my laundry to be done.  Tonight falls into the latter category.  I keep finding new ways to make the laundry process more efficient.  This is wonderful as it allows me to spend less money on laundry aka more money on coffee.  I don’t have a great point to make or structure to follow tonight.  Just a few disconnected thoughts.

It’s funny how you can be with people almost 24/7 and be social and all those good things yet still be completely alone.  Perhaps that sounds sad and lonely, but to me, its absolutely wonderful.  It’s impossible to engage all the time; learning how to be in your own world while still functioning in the real one is a very valuable skill.

Two things happened to me this week with counteracting effects.  First, my headphones completely died.  Later that day, my phone decided that it would no longer let me hear whoever I was talking to.  Once I realized this, I completely abused my advantage and delivered lovely long-winded monologues to the unfortunate person on the other “end of the line”.    I’m sad to say, but my headphones dying was much more inconvenient than my phone.  I didn’t realize how often I used them to block out the world. The music I didn’t miss all that much and it wasn’t that I couldn’t find quiet places to study, its just that now I had no legitimate excuse to ignore people.  I don’t like this about myself, that I have this intense need to only listen to my thoughts at times.  Its really quite selfish.

I am content with a silent world where I can only see the lips moving and the trees swaying and never stop to hear what the people and the wind have to say.  Not all the time, mind you, this is only a temporary desire that passes once I find the opportunity to be an introvert.  I was pleasantly surprised to find that, by the end of the week, I genuinely missed hearing someone’s voice on the other end of the phone.  It may have taken me a week, but at least I got there.

And now, I believe/hope that my laundry is done so I can go to bed.

Until next time,
Chloe of many worlds

“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.

Happiness Revisited

It was rather cold this morning for August.  Driving with my back windshield fogged up because 1378211213_8f5b7900cdI’m too lazy to wipe it off and being awake and on the road before 8 in the morning made me feel like I was going to high school again.  However, instead of staying in the 50s all day like most school days, the sun came back and summer showed its face again.
Today was probably just as nice as any other day this summer.  Playful sunshine and soft breezes, swaying trees and all that wonderful summer beauty.  Yet, because I woke up cold and had to put on jeans and a sweatshirt on this morning, changing into a skirt and sandals made the day seem so much more delightful.
I find it sad that I can’t appreciate how wonderful life is until I have something to contrast it with.  I don’t see the sunshine until I’ve lived in the shadows.  I can’t muster up any happiness if I never feel sad.
Today was probably just as nice as any other day but today was more wonderful than any other day.  I have reflected back on my summer and realized it was even better than I thought.  Its been a fun experience and perhaps more importantly, a learning experience.  Even without test scores and grades to validate me, I am quite assured that I have learned just as much in the last two and a half months of living life than I did over the past year.
I’ve learned how to balance my to do list and organization and obsession with getting things done with enjoying others around me and making the most of my limited time.  I’ve learned how to balance listening and talking, being home and being away, hiding in my writings and expressing myself out loud, staying aware of the world while staying delightfully oblivious.

I’ve learned how to deem things irrelevant, such as having a balanced life, so I could live to extremes.  Quite obviously, I’ve also perfected the skill of contradicting myself.  At the beginning of the school year, I wrote this:  If you don’t feel like taking the time to read it, I basically said that happiness was a worthless goal in life.  I still think joy is way more important yet hard to come by sometimes.  I have tested my theory and have lived an equally full life being indifferent to happiness as when I embraced it.  I’m not going to make happiness the main focus of my life by any means but there is more value in it than I originally supposed.

Here is what I have found happiness to be good for:  Until I let myself feel happy, then I can’t feel sad either.  Not feeling sad bothers me more than not feeling happy.  I suppose switching the order would make more sense, that it makes more sense to feel sad first so happiness means more when it comes.  Either way, a juxtaposition between the two emotions is needed, therefore happiness does have a valuable purpose.
Saying goodbye to family, friends, familiar places and memories in the next two weeks will be sad.  Yet it wouldn’t be genuinely sad if those things didn’t represent genuine happiness at one time or another.  This heartache is well worth years of happy memories.

Side note:  This is my 50th post in the span of roughly a year.  Thank you all who make it to the end of these long-winded posts.