Leaving to Serve for 18 Months

 The following is my farewell to you all for the next 18 months, as I am leaving next week to serve a mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. When I return, I fully intend on blogging once more. So, stay tuned and I will be back with more inspiration, poetry, words, lame metaphors, and unintentional humor! I love you guys. Thank you so much for your support, guidance, and wisdom over the years. I appreciate every one of you. I hope to still see many of you when I return!

I suppose the irony of me serving a mission, is that until recently it wasn’t even in the cards for me. Sure, there were moments when I thought to myself how nice it would be to go, but for the most part I just wasn’t interested. I had a life of my own, I knew what I wanted in the way of a career and academic plans, and I was pretty determined to get there without much interruption. I suppose I should have realized that mentality usually results in divine intervention.

It wasn’t until my first semester at BYU-Idaho, that my thoughts on a mission began to change. I remember, with no specific situation having been the start of it, an urgent feeling which became a sort of constant companion to me over the next few months, prompting me to serve a mission. Despite my adamant protests, long list of reasons why it was a bad idea, and several attempts to talk my Heavenly Father out of the idea, the feeling wouldn’t leave me. I remember talking one night with a friend and telling him how I really didn’t want to go on a mission, but kept having the idea come back to me. He assured me I wasn’t obligated to go, and that any choice to serve a mission would be mine entirely. You’d think this would have eased my conscience somewhat. Only, with every excuse and friend telling me I didn’t have to go, I felt more strongly that the spirit was directing me towards a mission.

My first Sunday back at the young single adult ward after college, was a life changing moment for me. It felt like every talk was a call from my Heavenly Father, asking me why I wouldn’t listen. Why I wouldn’t open my eyes and acknowledge the truth all around me. The importance of a mission became so apparent to me during that sacrament meeting, that I felt shaky afterwards. Whether I wanted to face it or not, my eyes were forced open that day. Feeling very humbled, I drove home that evening with tears in my eyes, and upon arriving home promptly told my mom that I was meeting with the bishop that Sunday to begin working on my papers.

Later, as I began struggling with doubts and fear over my decision, I came upon a talk by Elder Jeffery R. Holland, titled “the first great commandment”. In this talk, he shares a moment following the crucifixion of Christ, when the apostles returned to their life of fishing. Only, their return to the sea met with empty nets and failed attempts to find a solid catch. After a few tries, a stranger appeared by the shore and called out to them, asking if they had caught anything. The apostles/fishermen turned and replied that they had caught nothing. The stranger then called out for them to cast their nets on the right side of the ship. At these simple words, which mirrored the words spoken by Christ only three years before, recognition sparked in them. John stated what I’m sure every one of them thought, “It is the Savior.” Elder Jeffery R. Holland summarized the next part so beautifully, that I will am going to read a bit of what he says,

 “After a joyful reunion with the resurrected Jesus, Peter had an exchange with the Savior that I consider the crucial turning point of the apostolic ministry generally and certainly for Peter personally, moving this great rock of a man to a majestic life of devoted service and leadership. Looking at their battered little boats, their frayed nets, and a stunning pile of 153 fish, Jesus said to His senior Apostle, “Peter, do you love me more than you love all this?” Peter said, “Yea, Lord; thou knowest that I love thee.”¹⁰
The Savior responds to that reply but continues to look into the eyes of His disciple and says again, “Peter, do you love me?” Undoubtedly confused a bit by the repetition of the question, the great fisherman answers a second time, “Yea, Lord; thou knowest that I love thee.”¹¹
The Savior again gives a brief response, but with relentless scrutiny He asks for the third time, “Peter, do you love me?” By now surely Peter is feeling truly uncomfortable. Perhaps there is in his heart the memory of only a few days earlier when he had been asked another question three times and he had answered equally emphatically—but in the negative. Or perhaps he began to wonder if he misunderstood the Master Teacher’s question. Or perhaps he was searching his heart, seeking honest confirmation of the answer he had given so readily, almost automatically. Whatever his feelings, Peter said for the third time, “Lord, … thou knowest that I love thee.”¹²
To which Jesus responded (and here again I acknowledge my nonscriptural elaboration), perhaps saying something like: “Then Peter, why are you here? Why are we back on this same shore, by these same nets, having this same conversation? Wasn’t it obvious then and isn’t it obvious now that if I want fish, I can get fish? What I need, Peter, are disciples—and I need them forever. I need someone to feed my sheep and save my lambs. I need someone to preach my gospel and defend my faith. I need someone who loves me, truly, truly loves me, and loves what our Father in Heaven has commissioned me to do. Ours is not a feeble message. It is not a fleeting task. It is not hapless; it is not hopeless; it is not to be consigned to the ash heap of history. It is the work of Almighty God, and it is to change the world. So, Peter, for the second and presumably the last time, I am asking you to leave all this and to go teach and testify, labor and serve loyally until the day in which they will do to you exactly what they did to me.”

This story is so important to me for a few reasons, and I want to put this in perspective for all of you. As I sat reading this talk, fighting fear and confusion over what I needed to do, I realized a very simple truth.

First, my call to serve did not come the moment I opened my mission letter. It came, just as many of you have also experienced in different areas of life, directly to my heart by the Lord. In that sacrament meeting, I felt my call as surly as I did when I received it on paper. We all are called of the Lord, in different ways and in different times. However, the message is the same. If you love me, keep my commandments.

Two, my reluctance to obey, caused my father in heaven to ask me the same question asked of Peter. Growing up, I’ve always had a profound sense of my savior’s love for me. While I knew I loved him in return, I didn’t really understand until recently that love is a lot more than just a feeling, and words you say. It’s action, commitment, trust, and service. When I really thought about this, I was filled with such an overwhelming love for my savior that I didn’t even know I had kept buried up inside. The more I focused on him, the less I felt scared to serve a mission, and the more I realized what a privilege and opportunity it would be for me should I follow the calling I’d received.

I would like to bare my testimony that I know our Savior lived and died for us. I know that one day, if we live worthily of the covenants we partake of, we can return to live in the presence of our Heavenly Father with our eternal families. I know the very creation of the world bares testimony to the truth that there is a higher being above us. I can barely contain my excitement, to say that I know this being. I love him. And he hears and answers me, in ways I feel personally.

After all this time of not wanting to serve a mission, I’m glad to say that I’m ecstatic to serve. I have never felt such comfort in a decision before, and because of that I know I am doing what the Lord wants of me. 

In closing, I want to ask you to consider in your hearts, the same word’s that the savior asked of peter. “Do you love me?” If our answer is in the affirmative, then shouldn’t that mean action? 

We hold onto the familiar, even when it hurts.

Via Pinterest

   Despite how impressed you are at this moment, the quote above wasn't actually conjured up by the unfathomable depths of wisdom I keep piled in my mind for blog posts. I ran across it while listening to a Dr. Laura podcast.

   Though brief, the simple words: we hold onto the familiar, even when it hurts, really hit me hard. Mainly, because it so clearly defined myself.

   Breakups aren't easy; whether it is in regards to friendships, or romantic relationships. Going further into that, interestingly enough, most of my cherished attachments ended around the same time about a year ago. Though I understand why I ended them, and why I proceeded to then ignore any attempts at contact my past friends and romances tried to use to reach out to me. It still hurts. Despite the rationality of what I did--

   It hurts a lot.

   Now, a year later, I've met new people. I attend an actual school where I associate with them every day! Yet unexpectedly, they somehow feel dull to me, and incredibly shallow. After having known such vibrant and unique people in the past, those with whom I associate now seem very little in comparison. At the end of the day, I can truly say that I'm lonelier being surrounded by all these individuals than I was when I had my old friends and sat at home doing schoolwork on a computer.

   It's this thought process that makes me distortedly angry and somewhat bitter with myself. I feel like I should have already moved on with my life, but instead I sit here replaying my old memories like it will somehow improve the situation I'm in. I keep clutching at people who I shouldn't even remember anymore; and hoping for dreams that died the moment I decided to stand up for myself.

   We hold onto the familiar, even when it hurts. The people in my life a year ago, hurt me so much--be it intentionally, or not. However, that sort of pain was, and is, familiar to me. I may have not always been thrilled with my situation, but I wasn't as alone as I am now.

   I know I'm lucky to have gotten out when I did; yet at the same time, I so desperately want to go back. Back to a place where I had people to talk with who wouldn't look down on me for being obsessively dark, and perhaps a little too morbid.  People who didn't pull religion out every time we started a conversation, and who just accepted me for who I was. I miss that. I miss the times when I felt that, maybe, people other than my amazing family cared about me.

   Despite all these feelings however, it doesn't change the impenetrable fact that I can never go back. I was indeed hurt during those relationships; yet towards the end of them, I did a lot more of the hurting. Things like that can't just be washed away. They leave stains darker than crimson; and remain heavier than the overbearing sky above. Though part of me longs for a chance to change things, I know without a doubt that I wouldn't have done things any differently if I were to go back and do it again.

   I think we as individuals try and hide ourselves from the simple truth that relationships do really change us. We come out different people at the end of them; people who are no longer compatible in the ways they were before. I'm not sure if I can say I'm better for it; however, I accept that I am who I am because of it. I'm more respected than I've ever been, because I've grown above and beyond the timid girl I was a year ago. I'm a 17 year old, early high school graduate, who is in charge of a bunch of twenty-somethings from class because they look up to me enough to place me in charge! It's crazy! I have the second highest grade in my biology class, and am sailing with flying colors everywhere else too. 

   The girl from a year ago, couldn't have done that.

   I've grown a lot.

   And maybe instead of thinking about the good days, I should focus on this goodness.

   I think the most important thing that I need to remember, maybe what we all need to remember, is that we hold onto what's familiar--but that the future will be different, and will give us new memories to cherish. I'll meet people who I can love with all my heart; because that is how time works. It takes a while to roll its course; and so because of that, just enjoy where it’s at right now.

  

We are flawed - but is that wrong?

 

We as humans are naturally flawed and imperfect, and therein lies one of our greatest weakness. The mentality of the human conscience to see only what we feel is one of our greatest blights. It limits our progression and ability to achieve a higher purpose by placing mental barriers before us. Furthermore, not only does it stop us from doing what we can achieve, but it changes how we view ourselves.

   Having doubts about yourself or life is a very natural thing, somewhat expected even. However, when those doubts are fed with to much consideration they can suddenly become real impairments within our minds. Looking into the mirror, you begin to forget the things about yourself that you love, and suddenly view yourself only as you feel you should.

   You become so focused on how the world sees you that you forget how very little their opinion actually matters. Because in the end you will never be able to please everyone, no matter how hard you try. The only objective you will achieve is crushing yourself along with any talents and charms that you (knowingly, or unknowingly) already possessed.

    You are not a doll, to be approved of at every turn. You are not going to be perfect, so why are you trying to be? Flaws are the paraphernalia of life. They make us who we are, just as much as our talents and abilities do.

   

Strange Things I do to Make Myself feel better

This isn't quite my usual topic choice, and I was a little torn between posting it or letting it fade into my rather extensive draft box. I've written so much over the past few weeks, yet none of it really feels right. However, coming up on my second week of vacancy, I decided I'd have to post something or risk the shame of having nothing to contribute to you guys. So, here goes!

   I was induced to write this after coming to the realization that some of my go-to-habits when I'm feeling depressed or distraught, are slightly eccentric. So, here's an ensemble of both my quirky oddities, and the things I'd recommend others try doing. 

Enjoy!

✠ Research physiological facts
   Strangely enough, when I'm really having a hard time nothing makes me feel better than a nice book on the human brain, complete with psychological factors, emotional theories, and a thorough divesting of all that I thought was wholesome reality. Let me give you an example.
   Did you know, for instance, that the cerebrum, (located in the front area of the skull) is not only the largest part of the brain, but also makes up 85% of the brain’s weight? It's here that things like perception, imagination, thought, judgment, and decision making occur.
   Another interesting fact is that in teenagers, the part of the brain that controls reasoning and impulses, (known as the Prefrontal Cortex) doesn't fully develop until the age of 25. This is what makes it difficult for teens to hold back or control powerful emotions. The reason being that this crucial part of the brain is not fully connected.

 ✠ Listen to loud screamo and hardcore music
   Though personally I enjoy this genera of music anyway, I've come to the conclusion that during times of increased emotionality I tend to turn it on more frequently, (and louder) than I would otherwise tend to do. In my opinion, it has to do with the almost desensitizing nature of the music.
In general though, I believe most music has a similar comforting effect, regardless of the genera. 


 ✠ Thoroughly deep clean everything
   This is actually one quirk I benefit from in the end, much to my content. To break it down for you, I go into this frantic cleaning mode whenever I can't seem to keep my hands from shaking, and pretty much rip my room apart, starting it from scratch. I'll use toothbrushes to get into the deep groves of my window, the baseboards, and above my doors. I'll vacuum the floor for an hour, then follow it up by completely reorganizing my room and throwing half my belongings in the trash. Apart from the usual list: clean windows, dust ceiling, wash sheets and blinds, and replace all the pictures- I get even deeper than that.

I clean the window screen.

(This is the ultimate waste of time possible, as every scrub seems to be counter productive. It's like rubbing the dirt around in a circle.)

✠ Become a makeup bummy
   This may sound strange, but applying makeup is actually one of the ways I relieve stress. Maybe it's the art of it, meaning the ability to completely reconstruct a simple face into a persona to hide whatever your feeling at the moment. It's bewitching, to take something so plain and simple, and turn it into something rapturously beautiful.
   Contouring, highlighting, concealing, shadowing, and pigmenting. There are so many ways to do just a simple look, it's incredible! The finality of it, also gives me quite a boost of self confidence, (if it turns out well), which leaves me feeling a lot more capable of handling whatever is going on at the moment. Because if my whole world is going to fall apart in the next few minutes, at least I look good, right?

 ✠ Pinterest frenzy

   I must confess... My most obvious reaction to anything bad is to conjure a mother-load of depressing pins and drown my followers in them. (I'd apologize, if not for the handy little button which enables you to un-follow me. Gotta love that button.)
   On a slight tangent, I think pinterest should really be described as a woeful addiction from reality, rather than a source of lighthearted clever minds gathering together to share ideas. It's almost second nature by now to pin ever whilynilly thing that takes my fancy, to the point that I sometimes alarm myself as I look through my recent pins.  

For example:

& finally....

In what world do these actually correlate?
Unless I was subconsciously indicating that I wanted to marry Andy...
Which is not a bad idea.

   ✠ Go on long car rides just to stick your head out the window
   This works wonders. There is nothing like sticking your head out the window and enjoying a cool rush of air and bugs against your face as you fly across the countryside. It's both exhilarating and awakening. I love it when my hair whips back and forth in the wind, and my eyes are forced into squinty little slits to protect themselves from the turbulent of air gusting against them. Finding a bug in your lap also magically accelerates the flow of blood pumping through your veins.


  ✠ Make up long, dramatic speeches for enemies
   When am I not doing this, should really be the question. My mind lives in seven dimensions, all of which simultaneously exist within my conscience. One of them happens to be a land where poetic justice is accomplished against all those who have ever wronged me. I make up rather detailed scenarios in which I brutally outwit and shame all of the people I'd love to give a good reprimand to.
   Though my hate list isn't very lengthy, it's three pages deep and soaked in ink. When I make enemies, I make them well.

 ✠ Write
   You all are well aware of this, as I've posted quite a few, (to put it lightly) depressing entries over the course of my blogging life. It's become so frequent in fact, that my latest post actually addresses the the matter, which you can find here: Disclaimer.
   Someone once told me that the best way to defuse feelings and think more positively was to write. To this day, I have both understood and appreciated those words. Just pouring out your feelings onto the page, in a way, eases the weight of feeling them. It clears my head and provokes a more logical outlook on what is going on in my life. Being able to express my internal strife helps a great deal in reliving the internal tension abuzz inside.


 ✠ Talk about it
   I think the best source of comfort however, can be found in talking about how your feelings with someone you trust and depend upon. For me, this is usually my mom and my grandma. They both have heard an insane amount of venting from yours truly, and blessedly throughout it all, remain loving and attentive. Their advise and caution has become a source of wisdom that I depend upon in my life for both guidance and assurance that the world is not about to end because of one problem.
   Friends are also another great source to vent your feelings too. However, sometimes this can be a little more tricky, as finding someone you can trust explicitly under the title friend is sometimes not easy. I have found though, that good friends can be both unconditionally loving and compassionate, in any situation.

 ✠ Really focus on something
   In the past, this focus has been school. I'd take more classes, study longer and harder, and fill my brain to bursting with equations, formulas, and vocabulary; just to turn my thoughts to something other than my somber and self-pitying monologue. It worked pretty well too, this focus provided me with a strength I couldn't have found in mulling over my problems to the point of hysteria.
   Other such things beside school could entail reading, movies, jeweling, making music, graphic design, as well as sports. There really are so many different things to do in this world. The possibilities are nearly endless within our personal life spans.

 

   I hope you were able to discern between the rather ridiculous methods to make yourself feel better, and the more logical ones. Whatever the case though, I want to leave you with some final thoughts. Just do the things that make you happy! (Within the grounds of common sense). Understand that emotions are temporary, and that dwelling upon them wont resolve anything. Quite the contrary in fact.

Give yourself some time to grieve, then try and work past it, one small step at a time.

Finding forgiveness, in pain.

 

   At a certain point, you begin to understand that what your feeling, is becoming who you are. Emotions, hold such power within the human conscience, that- to an extent, they can shape an individual's mind. What begins as an emotional wound can, with the right catalysts and feeding, become more like a festering disease than just a small incident.
   A few days ago, someone very important to me snapped out in response to an (admittedly) sullen Lyndsey, "recently I feel like you've become angry at the world."
   Without hesitation, my sharp reply before leaving was, "there is just so much to be angry at."
   I have to admit, I went home and cried for a few hours after that. I was shocked with my answer. At first, I didn't understand why those particular words had come so easily, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized the truth to it. That I was angry. At everyone.
   Angry because they couldn't understand. Angry at myself for not being strong. I was angry for feeling swamped in emotions that I could barely begin to explain. I felt as though I was trying to stay afloat, and be the best person that I could be, and not only was that not good enough, but no one else seemed to be bothering to try to do the same. I felt deeply alone, in a way only the heart can feel.
   After these thoughts finally sank in, I began to realize that I was turning into exactly the person I'd spent so long running away from. A hollow, angry, and bitter individual. Intent on causing the pain I was feeling inside to those around me, simply because I didn't know how else to communicate it.
   To emphasize this, I'll go back to an example starting a few weeks ago when I became friends with an acquaintance I'd briefly known for a while. In the weeks following our friendship, the beginning trails of awareness about my newly forming personality slowly began to become apparent to me. The more we talked, the more I realized how hard in nature I had become. I felt like a dark disease, against the clarity of his light. In response to his kindness, I began to notice of how my responses usually entailed empty emotion. As I studied this further, It was as though I saw before myself a large invisible wall. A wall, which in retrospect of the situation, was meant to shield me from the world I was so clearly beginning to despise within my frenzied mind.
   Upon laying this bare to myself, I decided to try and step away from it for a moment. On a particular evening, when talking with this friend I introduced you too earlier, I voiced something of a slightly more personal topic than I usually got. Admittedly, this wasn't easy for me to do. On my part, it took a lot of conscious effort to bring the subject up. I mentioned a problem I was having and asked him for a little advice on the matter. In all candor, just telling him about this made me feel like I was staining his brilliant cape of liquid gold with the dark vapors streaming through my mental wall. So, to put it simply, I was astonished when he not only seemed delighted by my actual feelings, but let me keep talking. I hadn't expected the reaction I received. The looming wall within me distorted all sense of reality, in a way that gave everyone a brooding ulterior motive.
   The point of telling you this is to illustrate the point that more often than not, we let injuries from the past, build up into actual scars that impair us from functioning normally within society. Belittling your pain is not my goal here. However, prompting you to stop holding onto the past and accept that what you are living in now is the present, is my goal. The person you are in this moment is likely the person you will continue to be.
   Anger is like a poison. It saps away the energy from your limbs and instead expends it upon building a roaring furnace of hatred and despair. It will consume you.
   You have gone through a lot, and you will continue to go through a lot. Imagine a traveler, in the process of climbing up a steep cliff. Every time he sees a large rock that looks somewhat interesting, he slips it into his backpack. Eventually though, as he continues upwards, the accumulation of weight from his backpack and the strain upon his already weary body are too much for him to handle. Instead of simply leaving the rocks behind though, the traveler continues to stubbornly push on, even though his trembling fingers can no longer grasp the jagged sides of the mountain and his calls for help can no longer form in his gasping lungs. He lets go, and he falls, just as every sensible person could predict he would.
   Much like the traveler, if we continue to pile up every pain and tragedy that has happened to us within our backpacks, we will someday fall too. No matter how many times you cry for someone to help you, there is nothing they can do unless you first learn to help yourself. You are the one in control. You are the one on the mountain piling the rocks into your backpack and brashly continuing on. Just let them go! Let the past, be the past. Let your anger, turn to forgiveness. As you do this, not only will you begin to climb faster and higher up that mountain of life, but you will eventually reach the top without those regrets latched onto your back.
   You have the power, to forgive and forget. Don't try to hold onto those feelings, just because you want everything back.
   I'm beginning to understand that we can both retain the good of our lives, while learning to leave behind the bad. They aren't what makes you who you are, and they won’t help you to move forward. There are lights burning around you that you can't enjoy behind your anger and hurt.

   

In the depth of winter, I finally learned that within me lay an invincible summer. - Albert Camus

Studio Ghibli/What I Call Love

So, I have written a few things, but I've trashed them all due to an overwhelming spout of self-discouragement. (I'm silly, I KNOW.)
   However, to make up for it I thought I'd leave you guys with a brief overview of my feelings right about now. For those of you who've seen any Studio Ghibli films, (founded by the heart stirring, awe inspiring master, Hayao Miyazaki), you'll understand this perfectly.
   If you haven't seen any of their films, GO ORDER IT. I don't care if your 90+ and on your death bed, these films will restore your faith in humanity and teach you what it is to really love a person. They are beautiful, and among my favorite films of all time. 
   Some suggestions of mine if you haven't seen any would be:

• Howl's Moving Castle
• Whisper of the Heart
• Spirited Away
• Castle in the Sky
• My Neighbor Totoro
• From up on Poppy Hill
• Tales from Earthsea

   Though I've seen quite a few more, these are my top favorites so far. Now, to finally get to the point, I leave you with my promised (profound) pictures for today.

♥ Until next time.

& Original picture posting goes to Nanako Hime!

When did being beautiful, become more important than who we are?

 

   One of the things I find most peculiar about the human race, is our way of prioritizing what we see, over what we feel. I'm sure you've all heard the expression, "it is what’s on the inside that matters." -but if this was really true, why is so much of our time spent devoting ourselves to the cause of looking beautiful, rich, and fashionable? We put on such a dramatic show of displaying what we have physically, that often times who we are doesn't even matter. If any of us really believed that what's on the inside is what really matters, then why do we spend so much time checking our hair; buying the right sort of clothes; and covering our faces in paste and glitter?

   The sad truth of the matter is, that society today doesn't often judge based on personality. What we physically portray to the world has become such an extensive factor in any relationship -be it friendship, or courtship- that more often than not, we idolize those around us who have pretty faces, over those with real personalities.

   This sends so many mixed messages out to the adolescence in our society. On one hand, everyone tells them that what they have to offer is more important than what their visage shows. Yet, in the same juncture we proclaim those words as truth, we turn around, face the mirror, and criticize both ourselves and others because of what we look like or because of what we don't have. In a way, we are training the children in our lives from an early age to focus on their appearance, in retrospect of our conduct towards ourselves, and the way we prioritize physical attributes in others. 

   Because of the steamrolling roller coaster of heightened standards for physical appearance, it's only natural that the things that we say matter most, really become the things that we wish were what mattered most. 

   What’s the sad part? It's everywhere. On the TV, with our friends, it’s even painted across buildings in looming, larger-than-life pictures. How do you even begin to escape the warped cage of smoking, spinous brambles that’s burning across our planet, consuming what used to matter and burning it into clouds of sickly black vapor? How do you suddenly change a society, which has sewn seeds of idealism and perfection within the very skin lining our faces?

   I'm not going to lie. Looks can sway me in a way I shudder to think about, and fervently, I wish it weren't so. Looks can be one of the most deceiving tools of deception and bedazzlement man has ever crafted. It's almost laughably easy to fall under a spell which relies solely on physical definition. To bring it to a personal level, despite how obvious it might be to most, I still find myself staggering backwards in stupid astonishment as, every once in a while, a seven ton club of ‘real life’ hits me in the face with a rude awakening to the fact that looks matter very little in real relationships. As my wise mother once told me, “When you’re in love, the object of your affection could look like a toad for all you would care.” (However, my romanticized little self still seems to feel that good looks are a solid requirement in a potential spouse, one that is chiseled into a cold, rain drenched stone of cooled crystal. As I quote to my family often, the looks in my future partner have to be an absolute solid ten. Personality should also be a ten, though we get to that point after he’s passes the good looks test.) (Let’s pray that changes, since about three people in real life have managed to fulfil that quota). Moving on though, what my mother said strikes a chord of truth which I hope I will be able to understand with more maturity as I grow older. When it comes to relationships with friends, family, and romantic attachments, looks are not what get you through hard times. Looks don’t make up for the fact that the attractive person of your attention, is about as humorous as a dead slug, and as intelligent as a puff of vaporized H²O floating abjectly in the sky. A person can physically look appealing, while still managing to acquire the dullest personality ever. Sure, you could deal with that for... maybe a year? At your best chances, two years? Inevitably though, at some point you’re going to want someone a little less good looking, and a little more substantial. According to an awesome youtube artist by the name of Adande, his father once told him to go for the ugly girls. Why? Because in all likelihood, the ugly girls will be a lot more real when it comes to how they respect you and treat you. Whereas, a ‘pretty girl’, could opt out for the mentality of, ‘I’m settling for you, doing you a favor, you should adore me because of that.’

   On the flip side though, how do you react when you realize that your ‘friends’ just want to be friends with you, because of what you look like or have, rather than who you are. It’s just as powerful of a rude awakening when you realize they would care less if your cold, dead corpse was splayed out nicely in front of them on the sidewalk. In some ways, they view you as some sort of trophy, a friend they can use to parade around their other friends as though to say: “Oh look how cool I am, I’m friends with this person who’s good looking. Points for me!”

   If you want my advice with that situation, PLEASE don’t continue with people who seem to have shady motives for friendship, or in the worst case situation, try not to become attached to the people you know don’t have a real connection to you. How can I say this? Because I’ve been in both situations, and you know what I got out of it? I was the audacious moron, who ended up getting too attached to these individual people, and when they decided they were done with me, I felt like they had just set off a supernova off in my heart. No one’s worth your time if you aren’t worth theirs.

  

   We are all made differently in this world, and no matter how much we try and erect a ‘perfect being’, there’s never going to be anyone to perfectly fill that quota. We are each individual, despite appearances, which is something that has become silkily glossed over in this war of social statuses and perfect ideals.

   In the end though, it really is what’s on the inside that matters. Taking into account the individuality of every beings’ appearance, basing our concepts of who they are on their face or lifestyle is a frail way to actually lay bare who they are as a person.

   At some point in each of our lives, we must ask ourselves if it’s more important to us to choose friends based on their status and attractiveness, or to choose friends who will benefit our lives because of their flavorful, real personalities.