Someone once told me: "You'll be the same person a year from now as you are today, except for two things - the people you meet and the books you read."
Well, in 2008 I've read a few great books and I've met a lot of amazing people, so in some ways I know that this past year has changed me a lot.
I guess all I can say now is that it has been a really, really good year.
And that I am very excited to welcome another one.
Happy 2009.
Yes, that's right.
I'm asking you.
I don't really know who you are.
At this point I am assuming you are a small collection of air particles. Or maybe a few thousand million ones and zeroes.
I don't know, but if by some miracle of time and space and internet technology you stumble upon these words and feel the desire to respond: I am listening.
And I am asking you:
What matters? What do you think is important? What do you need to hear? What should I write about?
Please let me know.
I'm waiting.
I don't really know what to say about Christmas.
I doubt that I am informing anyone that December 25th is Christmas day, because I'm sure you already knew that. I think most people do.
And I don't know how to adequately reflect on a day like this. Nothing especially unique or eventful has happened on this particular day in 2008.
Perhaps I cannot reflect upon Christmas.
Maybe I will eventually, but not now.
I think that perhaps the reason I feel this way because I feel that Christmas has snuck up on me this year. This whole year has actually been pretty sneaky. I wasn't exactly prepared. But here it is, and now it has come and gone.
I don't know how you feel about Christmas.
I don't know how the world feels about Christmas.
It is a "special occasion" for many, and a religious holiday, or maybe a day when an obese man breaks in and leaves gifts in your socks and steals your sweets, or maybe it is just another day.
I hope that you like Christmas.
I'm beginning to like it more and more, I think.
Today it is a rainy day. Or maybe a melted-snow day.
I like to think of it as a melted-snow day. That makes San Diego seem slightly more exotic, I guess.
Anyway, I just wanted to wish you a happy Thursday, happy December 25th, happy Boxing-day eve, and most of all:
And a big THANK YOU to everyone who wished me merry and well on Christmas, I got so many messages that my phone got mad at me. :)
Boys and Girls and relationships.
Lately I have been thinking about friendships and relationships that I have with people, and why some are really, really good and strong and lasting, and why some are not.
I came to realize (by the magic power of extended metaphors) that often times, people, specifically girls, build their friendships and relationships out of sand; like sandcastles.
Think about this.
Two friends can take ordinary piles of sand and work together to make them something beautiful and fun and useful. Castle walls are built of common interests, shared experiences, favourite movies and books and music, even shared sorrows or tragedies.
Girls must spend time investing into each relationship; and, if they spend their time and effort making a great sandcastle, then it will become a glorious and wonderful thing.
But, sadly, if they do not actively spend time building and maintaining their relationships, it seems as though the waves and wind of time and distance take their toll, and the sandcastle begins to crumble.
And what's even worse is that sometimes, when many girls are not actively building someone else up, they are busy tearing them down. (You know these girls... and probably don't like them or have been hurt by them.) They kick at the sandy castle walls, collapsing glory into a mess.
Now, I am obviously not a boy, but to me, boys seem a lot more simple and straightforward.
Sand and sandcastles are complex. I did not think that boys could be using the same sand that my fellow females and I were using.
I'm not saying sandcastles aren't or can't be great, but I knew through observation and experience that boys must build their relationships out of something different.
When I told Eric about this sand idea, he said that guys build their relationships out of wooden sticks.
Sticks are strong and sturdy, but, they are still susceptible to decay. They can crack and peel and break, but overall, a house made of sticks will last much longer than a house made of sand; even when little or no effort is put into maintaining it.
And he added, "Only a really big fire could completely destroy a house of wooden sticks."
This was an enlightening moment for me. I realized that most of the friendships I have with guys are, from their perspective at least, built with sticks. They trust me and they know that I will still be there and be their friend even if we don't actively invest in each others lives.
It was hard for me before, because I sometimes wondered why they seemed to put such faith in sandcastles that I knew would crumble without maintenance. But, they were not in fact sandcastles, they were stick houses (with maybe a little sand on top for decoration).
Now, I do know for a fact that I have many other relationships build of sticks. Even with girls, and especially with certain girls, I know the friendships I have are solid and strong and I trust that even if I spend a lot of time away from these friends, we will still be friends.
There are some friends, on the other hand, who at one point in time were very, very close to me, but had only built things out of sand. We spent our days sculpting intricate corridors, tall towers and deep dungeons, but after a while, I was forced to walk away from this particular sandcastle and move to others along the beach. And sadly, the choices that these friends made did not nurture our castle, but rather allowed it to wither and collapse. I still have the memories, the love and kindness and fun that I shared with these people, but they since have become just piles of sand.
I might still use sand sometimes, but a combination of sticks and sand are what keeps many of my friendships solid.
There is much, much more that can be said about this, but for now, here's to sticks, sand, and lasting friendships!
Happy Winter Solstice!
"Expectation is the root of all heartache."
Studying Astronomy this semester has been intriguing, to say the least, and I'm a little saddened that it's over already.
I came across this video of Stephen Hawking asking some big questions about the universe (How did the universe begin? How did life begin? Are we alone?) and I just thought I'd share it.
He has and interesting sense of humor. I like it.
Enjoy:
Sometimes I wonder why I feel the need to open my mouth and speak when everything meaningful and significant has already been said.
I think the reason I still try to write and speak is, because maybe it hasn't all been said already. And even if it has, some of it needs to be repeated because it seems like we don't spend a lot of time looking for it or listening to it.
Either way, I am making an effort to listen and read and take in information as much as I possibly can, rather than just spew out every cliché, immature and underdeveloped idea that comes into my mind.
With that said, I came across an article on RELEVANT that almost tells my story better than I could tell it myself:
http://relevantmagazine.com/god_article.php?id=138
It's called "Not A Missionary, Not Yet A Poet" by Micha Boyett Hohorst, and it begins:
"Somewhere between age 4 and age 10, I realized that I was in love with Africa. I still am. I’ve just never been there."
Those two sentences are... well, me. That's my story. And I share it with someone else. Someone by the name of Micha Boyett Hohorst. I don't know who that is. But I feel that I understand a big part of her life. I don't really know what that means. I guess it just goes to show you that you that we are all part of the same story, and that there will always be someone else in your boat.
I guess I just wanted to share this article.
It's woth a read.
And that's all I have to say about that.
I'm trying to finish up everything for school, so I'm not really supposed to be blogging, but I felt like I needed to share this poem that Cassandra wrote.
I found it incredibly beautiful and applicable to my life.
Enjoy:
"Bleed"
It's all a dream to me.
But it's there, waiting, lurking,
Sometimes in the forefront of my mind,
Screaming for attention, nagging,
Begging until it sends me over the edge.
At other times, it merely flickers,
Wandering like a moth across the movie screen
While moving pictures in black and white
Dance in an aching, twisting manner all night long.
And then, I'm awake, and
It's only clear when you're right next to me,
With your body pressed against mine,
Whispering in my ears.
It's only then that I can taste you, smell you,
It's only then that the words we exchange actually mean something,
Something tangible that I can reach out and touch,
and taste,
and kiss,
and feel.
I live in a perpetual state of denial.
But your fingers are there, physical, aching,
Searching, making me
Bleed.
There's pain, but at the same time, a meaning, a reason.
And we sing together about "being alive"
But it's one thing to sing, and another to know.
I'm dancing on the cusp of knowing and not,
of ignorance, and stupidity, and rash decision, and
Beauty.
Chaos, and coldness, and turmoil, and cries in the near-dark.
It melds together, swirling, aching.
Always aching.
Life is all ache—
there's not much else I can ask for.
-Cassandra Fredrickson
Finals week is next week, and I am busy cramming to get everything done. If you are in college, you are probably doing the same. You know how it goes.
This might help explain what happened to me last night: I came home from my film class (at around 10:00) and sat down on my bed with my computer to finish up some reviews for my final. I also started talking to Eric on iChat about something interesting. Well, I think it was interesting, but I don't actually remember because the next thing that I know, it's 3:45 am and the light is still on and I am still wearing my jeans and two jackets and my computer sits next to me, dead.
This is just one of those random things that happens to me.
It is kind of funny, but it's also frustrating. It was frustrating because I did not want my computer to die.
I had spent most of the day and the night before not only working on schoolwork, but discussing a wide variety of topics with my friends on iChat.
I found that some of those conversations were incredibly beautiful, meaningful and insightful.
I spoke to Ian about weather or not God exists, and about how everyone worships and believes in something, even if they consider themselves atheists. Cassandra and I discussed the human condition, among other things, and Bundy and I discussed relationships. To Kenny I poured out a lot of big and pressing spiritual questions that were weighing down my heart, and Eric and I had some of the most significant conversations about God that I have had in a long time.
Those conversations were really wonderful. They meant a lot to me. Some are worth reading, and many worth remembering.
I want to read those conversations again, but I can't.
All of them are now gone.
Unlike my homework assignments, which magically save onto my hard drive somehow, these words have disappeared forever. They are now somewhere with Mary Todd Lincoln's sanity and most of my socks (yeah, I don't know what happened to a lot of my socks).
Now, really, the question is: so what?
So what if I lost a few days worth of online conversation?
I'm still trying to figure that out.
I have been known to save some of my online conversations with friends, and while I am not an obsessive conversation saver who must log every word typed and transmitted through the Internet, I do occasionally love to keep the few words I find meaningful.
In fact, I went through some of my old "AIM Logs" or whatever you want to call them, and found that some of them were incredible. Some of them made me think, "I can't believe that I ever felt like that, or said things like that," or, "Wow that was some really good advice, I should remember that!" or, "I was really insightful back then, what happened?"
It made me wonder why we, as humans, feel such a need to archive things. We do have quite an obsession with this. Museums, photo albums, books, storage devices, galleries. We like to save things. We like to preserve things we find important.
Do we forget that we are all going to die someday?
Maybe I should open this up and ask you (the air particles and zeros and ones reading this) some questions:
Do you think anything is really worth saving or persevering? Why?
Do you think that mere "words" can truly be significant or meaningful? Do you think they can be life changing?
If so, what words do you find significant?
Do you realize that soon you will die and the sun will become a red giant and destroy the planet and everything we have saved and stored up and blogged about will be gone?
Do you think I realize this?
If so, why do I even have a blog?
Do I think my words will somehow be meaningful to you?
If so, how?
Why or why not?
Ah, I'm starting to sound like an open-ended final exam or something. I'm sorry. I was just thinking and trying to get you to think too.
Anyway, my first day of work is today!
I don't have much more time, so what I wrote in this post may or may not have made sense.
By and by, I must needs be going.
Wish me luck.
So, while I was in China this summer I kept a blog: www.morganhasablog.blogspot.com
I guess that some people actually read it, because they told me that they really enjoyed it.
They said I had a lot of insightful things to say, they said it was inspiring, and they encouraged me to keep writing, keep dreaming, keep sharing, and to please keep on logging my life on the web.
Well, I didn't want to update that blog with the mundane musings of my American life. It felt strange, especially after everything that I wrote about in China.
But rejoice, my fellow webloggers; I've created something new.
And I just might have something to say.
Here I go.
"The more I see the less I know for sure." - John Lennon
