The Fault in Our Stars

Last night, I ventured to the movie theatre with a new friend to take in a screening of the film adaptation of John Green's book entitled The Fault in Our Stars.  It was very good.  Apparently the book is better (I haven't read it yet, but isn't the book always better?) but aside from small criticisms playing in my head in the voice of the CinemaSins narrator [see CinemaSins on YouTube] I really did enjoy the movie.  It was sad, it was funny, it was honest, and it inspired thoughts.

Don't you love a movie that inspires thought?  

Oh, ps.  **Spoiler Alert.**

It made me think.  A lot.

Without giving every plot detail away, two teens who have terminal cancer meet and a love story unfolds.  I'm pretty sure that's obvious in the trailer though so I'm still good on that end.  On to the list of things that struck me.

Firstly, the boy, whose name is Augustus Waters, meets the girl, Hazel Something-or-other at a support group for young adults and teens with cancer.  The important part comes in where he asks her name.  She of course says, "Hazel," to which Gus replies, "No, your full name."  It then comes out that her full name is Hazel Grace Something-or-other.  Gus, somehow in his eighteen year old wisdom, knows the importance of a name.  He calls her Hazel Grace the entire movie.  Maybe there's some backstory to this in the book that I'm missing since I haven't read it yet, but I've been thinking about names and this just resonated so much with me.  Our names aren't arbitrary.  They were chosen.  Some with great purpose and meaning, some without, but still chosen carefully and with great consideration.  I believe that names can impact lives.  Maybe not overtly, but obviously whichever star named their daughter Apple (Gwen Stefani, wasn't it?) had something very specific in mind with that choice.  Little Apple will have a different life than Rebecca next door, simply because her name is more unique.  Meanings, ironically, have meaning as well.  My name is Ashleigh Rene Junor.  My spelling is derived from the ash tree itself.  This didn't mean anything until I researched the ash tree.  It is strong, light, and can withstand much force without breaking.  It bends.  I have been through a fair amount of crap in my life... Especially my parents' divorce.  That did a lot of damage to four year old me.  But I did not break.  I learned to bend.  I still refuse to break.  I am the ash tree and it is me.  Rene is the French version of the Roman name Renatus, meaning reborn.  I identify as a Christian who was born again into the faith.  There's lots of things I still struggle with about the church and life questions, but that changes not the meaning of my name.  Maybe this is lunatic asylum worthy, but I believe names are significant.  So in the movie, getting back there, what if Augustus saw something in Hazel Grace that others didn't?  What if, by using her whole name, he acknowledged that special identity every time he spoke to her?  What if we all have something within us that could help be identified by our names and we choose not to see the significance because we think they're just names?  

Secondly, a friend of Augustus' and Hazel's has to give up his eyesight in order to beat his cancer.  Gus had to give up half of his right leg.  This made me consider what I would be willing to sacrifice in order to keep living.  At what point would I say, "No, it's enough, I'm finished,"?  I think I could learn to live with one leg, or even being deaf, but would losing my sight cause me to draw the line?  There is so much beauty in the world.  It pains my heart to even think of not being able to see it.  Of course, one never really knows until faced with the ultimate decision of whether to live or die, as the case is with the friend.  What would you be willing to give up?

This is part one.  

Of Course, I Want Someone

Everybody asks, "Do you have someone?"  And I always reply, "No, I've never had someone."  And they always say, "Oh... Well, do you want someone?"  And I say, "Well, I'm not sure... I'm learning about myself a lot right now."  And their eyes, they glaze over with confusion, and their faces have this but you want someone, don't you? expression on them.  And, well, the answer is yes.

Of course I want someone.  I think everyone wants someone.  But me, I'm special.  I refuse to give myself to just anyone.  My someone has got to be a someone I can surely see myself with in the long run, because I am not up for one night stands or the 'we're just not working out' after only a month bit.  You see, if I have someone, I'm considering them.  For the long run.  For marriage.  So that someone better really be someone.

To be that someone, certain criteria will have to be met.  A job, a resemblance of a plan for your life... good with kids is a strong point.  Because if I find a someone, I'd like to try for a few of them.  Another important, no, IMPORTANT, thing is the ability to communicate.  If you're my someone, you'd better be prepared for some serious talks and maybe fights and definitely make-ups, because I won't just walk away and say you should've known, should've treated me better.  Love doesn't work that way.  

I also need a someone who is strong.  Emotionally and physically.  It's okay if you have low points, you're human... What I need is for you to recognize when I'm having mine, because I've learned not to show them.  I'm guarded so I can be a someone for other people... And it'll take a long time for me to trust you with who I am.  Please, be ready, and don't give up.  Ask.  Better yet, don't ask, and hug.  If I cry you'll know.  Also, please be ready to decide where we're going to have lunch some days.  I don't want to pick all the time.

If you're my someone, I hope you enjoy traveling, or at least can get behind me in my desire (read: need) to travel.  Culture is fascinating, language is enrapturing, and adventure is waiting.  My whole career plan is based on seeing the world, and changing it for the better.  I want to make sure that people who need things get them, and I want to see those people and places face to face.  Equality, freedom.  They aren't just words... They're ideas, they're handholds and footholds to new levels in world ideology.  My someone will need to be at minimum supportive... But if you're an adventure junkie and can budget with me so we can go on trips together, consider yourself one step closer to being that someone who was meant for me.

The last vital piece for my someone is shared ideas.  I'm religious, and it won't change.  My God was here long before you were.  But maybe you aren't.  That's not a bad thing.  But if you can't accept that I am, and be willing to give my beliefs equal credence to yours, you are not my someone.  That belief also affects how I see me, and how I see you.  I do hope and pray that we can share beliefs, since then this whole lifestyle would be a non-issue.  Chances are likely that if they don't, you probably aren't my someone... It would be extremely hard to live peacefully together and raise kids with two differing ideologies, wouldn't it?

My ideal someone is a person who understands that a kiss isn't just a kiss to me - it's a token of affection, of worth, of importance.  You don't walk around just kissing whoever you feel like kissing (if you do, you're not my someone!)... We all know it carries significance.  To me, it means that you believe what I believe about me = that I am precious, worth protecting and fighting for.  That I mean something to you that others do not.  If you don't share this belief, please, just don't bother even discussing kissing (if you're unaware of what I believe, you may ask for clarification purposes) but for heaven's sake, don't just kiss me willy nilly because that's what you saw in the movies.  I'd rather watch people kiss alone for the rest of eternity than be kissed and find out later it was just for fun, or something equivalent.  I know, I'm weird.  Old fashioned even.  Oh well.  It gets worse.  I will not have sex with you unless you put a ring on it.  I believe I am worth more than flings, casual or not... If you want that, you need to show me that you believe I am and will be your someone until death do us part.  

See, my someone, if they come, will be a very special person.  And yes, sometimes I'm lonely.  And yes, maybe my ideals are too high and narrow.  But I've tried to change them before, to make myself just accept more of society's norms so I don't get those weird, confused stares.  I can't.  And really, I'm not sorry about it.  I love too hard to be let down who thinks it's okay to disrespect others, or refuses to talk about the issues.  Because if you're my someone, and I love you, I will love you for the rest of my life, heartbroken or not.  I will do my best to make you understand how much and why I love you. I really don't want to be heartbroken.  I don't want to waste so much time and effort on a someone who won't understand.  But I also won't give up on me.  I will never be able to completely drop everything I want in life.  I'm a dreamer.  Without dreams, I'll be miserable.  

If you genuinely think you're my someone, spend time getting to know me.  Lots of it.  Then ask.  I will probably say no.  To be honest, I'm afraid that someone will not understand and therefore never come.  But make me love you, if you can.  Don't ask lots, but don't give up, either.  The day I decide to trust you with everything may very well be the day I decide to say yes.

My someone should also be aware of and accept that I believe in faeries.  Mutual belief is not necessary, but would be gladly welcomed.

http://www.upworthy.com/ever-considered-what-guys-look-for-in-girls-forget-it-think-about-what-a-17-year-old-says-instead

Pretty Darn Happy :D

I was just getting cozy in my bed tonight to go to sleep, and I suddenly had a wave of appreciation for some things in my life.  A lot of people say I'm easily amused and/or pleased, but I think the more you are able to enjoy the small, every day things in life, the happier you'll be!  So with that said here is a list of things that genuinely make me happy and I want to be grateful for in writing:

1.  My duvet

A very simple thing, yes, but I just love it.  A gift from my dad and his girlfriend for Christmas 2012, the design is gorgeous (city names!) but even beyond that it's comfortable - so comfortable - and warm, but without being heavy, and squishy, but not poofy.  It really just makes my bed, a thing I already love, one hundred times better.

2. The Shaytards

Some people think I'm ridiculous for watching and loving someone's family as much as I do, but I can't help it.  I don't watch television, but I'm calling out all the Harry Potter, Hunger Tames, Dr. Who, Amazing Race, and ER superfans I've ever met... Why aren't they weird?  The Shaytards are fun, funny, and all they're trying to do is bring joy to people's lives.  Give them a real chance.  If you still don't like them, that's fine... I don't like all your shows either.  But let's be respectful of each other's opinions.  Shay and his family add something to my life.  Don't judge it.

3.  Cold water

Even the fact that there is drinkable water flowing from my tap and I have a freezer containing ice cubes... I love the feeling of being hydrated and there are some days when absolutely nothing tastes as good as that icy cold liquid.

4. Soft music

Again, not mainstream popular.  I always get something along the lines of "How can you listen to this? I'm falling asleep!"  This music, especially when matched with an activity like crocheting or puzzling, really serves to relax and ground me.  That is my down time.  Don't mess with it.  It's keeping me sane.

5.  Hugging.

ESPECIALLY if they are long and/or tight hugs from someone I really love.  I've hinted to some, straight out told others, but I crave meaningful human touch.  There's a name for my people... We're called cuddlewhores.  Weird, inappropriate, but true - we... I... need it.  It's our love language, my love language.  While the levels of trust, of course, range according to how familiar we are with the other person, hugs are usually a more rewarding (and still usually socially acceptable) way of getting that touch from most people.  Please, if you're comfortable with it, hug me.  I won't initiate it unless you've somehow communicated that it's okay, so do let me know... It makes me feel important and valuable and happy.  The more the merrier.

6.  Good children's movies

Mr. Bagorium's Wonder Emporium.  The Lion King.  Frozen.  The Croods.  The Tinkerbell movies.  Children's films (and some cartoons!) are only getting better.  I love being able to just sit and enjoy being in a child's world again for an hour and a half and letting my imagination and love of musicals get their fill.  Do me a favor and don't bash the movie afterward for no plot or character development.  If I wanted that, I would've watched something different.  I came for the simple jokes and thrills of being a child, but appreciating it so much more because I'm an adult too and I know what I didn't realize I had back then.

That's about it for now.  But I had to write them down because I'm just feeling super satisfied with life at the moment and it's good to remember when you're thankful and happy, and to record it somewhere to review when you're sad.  So there you go, self... Don't forget!

Failure.

I did something today I've never done before.  I walked out of class without doing the test I was supposed to have written.  It will mean I will fail.  However, in so many ways I'm okay with it now.  Failing this course has taught me more than the course itself.  Because of it...

I learned it's okay to admit you're failing.

Not everyone is good at everything.  Although I understood this before, I have realized I never applied it to me.  There are things I can't do as well as others, and then there are things I really struggle with.  Failing doesn't mean you're a bad person or that you will never accomplish your dreams.  It doesn't even mean you won't finish the task or goal you started.  All it means is that you're gonna have to try a little harder.

I learned that you constantly need to evaluate yourself and your progress.

When I started economics, the first lecture was easy and interesting.  The next was a little more difficult but I could still do the homework without fully understanding the material.  By the time I realized how far behind I actually was, it was not without consequence.  If I had been honest with myself about how much I really knew, things would have been better.

Sometimes, you just have to put extra work in.

My professor, bless his heart, is very intelligent.  He's also stronger in mathematics than myself, and is Bangladeshi.  This means that his mathematical thought process is both faster than mine, and occasionally difficult to understand.  

For me, this meant I rarely got anything out of lecture.  Between trying to decipher his speech, watch his examples, and take the notes, I often found myself hopelessly confused and frustrated.  Later on in the course I stopped trying to follow him and just told myself I'd read the book, which I did understand.

I did read some of the book, but not all of it.  Also, some things needed to be read more than once for me to grasp the concept.  I found it all very boring, but through failing I have come to appreciate the delayed benefit of tedious, hard work.  Failing doesn't feel very good.  I know now that I have to be able to motivate myself better, and this will be a good reminder as to why.

Once in awhile, things actually do create more stress than they're worth.

Yes, I could have put more effort in.  Yes, I could've, should've, would've... Done this, done that... Hindsight, right?  But I didn't, and what I did do wasn't enough.  When I hit the floor last night in frustrated, bored agony because I didn't understand what I was trying to study for today, I realized that sometimes, some things are just not worth it.  I was sitting at 50.5% before today's test, which is worth 10% of my total mark.  For the amount of time studying and stress it continued to cause, trying to save myself was just not in the cards anymore.  On that note...

It's okay to try again.

Sometimes it just doesn't work out.  Despite your best efforts, or lack thereof, the ball drops.  You fail. But it happens to everyone.  Hundreds of people experience failure every day.  You will live through it and it is okay to try again!  Failure doesn't mean you can't.  It just means you didn't this time.

You have to forgive yourself and move on.

Last night, I was very disappointed in myself.  For not realizing sooner that I wasn't getting it, for not doing as much reading as I should have, for a hundred different small things.  I felt guilty for wanting to quit, for wasting the time and money on the course when - if I just studied realllllllly hard all night - I might pass.  

But I don't want to just pass.  I want to succeed.  I want to be proud of myself and cramming for a 53% isn't what I want.  I also didn't want the extreme moodiness, exhaustion, and sickness that comes the next day with a stressful all nighter.  So I chose to try again.  I left that homework and study material on the corner of the bed and moved on to other things that needed doing for other courses in which I was still earning good marks. I had to stop feeling guilty for prioritizing, which is what I was actually doing.  

So I did.  I let it all go and I quit.  I forgave myself for being stupid this time around and promised myself I'd do better next time.  Forgiveness is not an excuse to repeat the mistake you've made, but rather an allowance of grace to attempt again.  Don't forget that.

Lastly, I learned that even though it's still hard, I can learn math.

This course was difficult for me, even when I did understand the material.  But there was some that I understood!  Math and math related subjects (ie economics) have always been the most difficult subject matter for my art and writing wired brain.  This course proved to me something I never believed:  I can learn math.  I can do math.  So maybe it takes a little longer and a lot more effort... I am never telling myself I suck at math again, because I don't.  

Math is a challenge, and it's now a challenge I believe I can overcome with the right mix of effort and motivation.  This is a huge confidence boost for me.

So, really...

Yes, I failed.  No, I probably didn't have to.  I will try again.  And I'm actually okay with it.  I know this experience will guide and shape my failures in the future, of which there are bound to be some.  As long as I know that it doesn't shape me, I'm ready to keep trying till I succeed.  For that, I'm grateful for economics.

Nobody Reads These Anymore.

I'm having an epiphany.  I'm in a stage, a season, a whatever you feel like calling it, but a time of change.  Or maybe, an end to a time of change.  I'm not really sure.  I'll have to think about it.

What I am sure of, though, is that in some ways I feel like I'm losing myself.  The last year has been a time of trying a lot of new things, challenging myself, and bursting my bubble, pushing my limits... Is there another conventional way to say that?  I don't know.  Oh well.  Anyways, I am, and have been, and will keep doing so, but maybe differently or less.

I've really learned the benefits to change and to challenge, and whereas I was afraid of them before and felt safer in familiarity, I'm proud to say that although sometimes nerves still show up, they never get the best of me any more.  I'm not afraid to try or to find the answer to the question of 'what if'?  It's been great.  It really has.  But I've also realized that the familiarity that I tried to leave behind wasn't just routine or appearances.  Those can stay behind, I don't need them again.  What I do need that I have to find somewhere along the past's dusty roads is the parts of what keep me satisfied within my... Creative headspace, for lack of a better word, or term.  

Before, I needed to fill the part of me that longed to be free of fear and try adventure, change up the perspective in life to see what became of me.  And I did, and I'm happy.  But the part that was comfortable, that lived in a shell surrounded by introverted exploits like books and puzzles has been ignored, and now I'm hungry for that again.  I find it comforting in a way that nothing else can be, and therefore an important part of my personality.

I used to be a voracious reader, especially of classical romance or children's literature.  It just gets me, right there, and... Oh, how do I explain it... You know how when you read a book, sometimes you know you're just reading and it holds very little meaning or influence over you?  Other times, when you're reading a really good book with developed characters and setting and you can empathize to the extent where you feel like you're in the story... Those are the good ones.  I like to live in a dreamworld of fairies, magical forests, gloomy moors, and giant English stone manor houses with upper class ladies and different spoons for dessert.  Where there is a different, measurable quality, and you feel with the character and somehow when they struggle, you do as well, and likewise when they triumph you've also overcome and accomplished something significant.  You can take life lessons from these people, cry with them, laugh with the, and learn from them because they're not just stories.  They're literature.

Hopefully that makes sense.  I just finished the first half of Jane Eyre and I remembered why I love reading, and how fulfilling it is.  It also makes me think of other important things I gain satisfaction from that I haven't done in so long, like writing.  I often feel like people don't know the real me, which is what this post was supposed to be about but I guess I wasn't meant to go there, so maybe it will have to wait.  Maybe I'll write it after, but for now, this is what you get.  Sometimes I write these for an audience, but sometimes I write them for me, because I know I'll come back some day and read them and I want to know how I felt.  When I'm forty and my kids are teenagers and going through personal identity crises, I want them to know I struggled with that at times too, and maybe going back to activities they've been neglecting, but that make them happy, might be part of the answer.  I don't know.  There's a lot I don't know.  What I do know is that after having read half of that book, I feel much more satisfied in an area that was feeling empty three hours ago.  Pick up a book, kids.  Maybe it will change your life... Some have changed mine.

I'm A Jerk.

So.  My mother has told me twice in the last week and a half that I am not a compassionate person.  Upon further thought and review, I have to agree.  There's some conditions attached, but I have a very difficult time feeling sorry for someone.  Anyone.  

See, I'm all about the moving forward version of life.  Everyone's seen some version of the "Lord, give me strength to change what I can and wisdom to accept what I cannot" mantra.  I have been highly influenced by people and statements aligning to that view of life and therefore, if someone has an issue or problem, I'm not the one you should go to in order to have a good cry.  Because if it's a problem that can't be solved, I'll tell you to walk away.  If there's any hope, I will go through the options to solve it with you.  That's just how I work.

Now, that isn't true for every single thing that comes my way.  Friends who lose a beloved pet, have a family member pass, break up with a significant other... I can empathize with those people and the is a grace period for grief.  But even with them, after a few weeks if they haven't started working on the healing process and keep sitting in self pity I get frustrated.  I've always been good at pointing out what's wrong with a given situation; in years of late, I've become good at producing ideas for solutions.  If people don't want solutions, and just want to be sad but still talk to someone, I just don't understand.  Sometimes I want to be sad, but from my understanding of talking to people, you do it to get your feelings out.  Organized, put together, begin the feeling better.  If you want to mope, why would you talk to someone?  At least, that's how I feel.  If you're going to talk to me, provided there was no major calamity, you're going to get suggestions for changing your situation, solving your problem, or simply accepting life the way it is if you aren't willing to change.  

I deal with a lot of things internally, so I guess I expect others to as well.  But after my mom's calling me out on the lack of empathy and compassion, I'm realizing that I do look like a jerk.  Which, to be completely honest, doesn't bother me too much.  Maybe, though, it bothers other people.  So I'm thinking I should start practicing being nicer.  Listening without suggesting even if I don't see the point of it.  Maybe other people need that sort of thing more than I do.  So I'm gonna try and see where it goes.  Maybe I'll look like a jerk my whole life.  Let's hope not... Here's to practice. 

If I Die Young...

-
If I die young
Bury me in satin.
Lay me down
On a bed of roses.
Sink me in the river, at dawn.
Send me away with the
Words of a love song.

~ The Band Perry
-

Mortality is a fact of life. Some people think about it. Some don't. I do.

In our petty North American culture of speak-your-mind-without-offending-people-or-pushing-your-belief-system-or-generally-disturbing-the-facade-of-peaceful-rich-white-life that we spend millions of dollars and thousands of hours trying to keep strong, subjects like death and sex have no room to be anything but scary topics banished to the broom closet only to be dragged out at 'appropriate' times like premarital counseling and writing of wills. In other cultures (thinking Europe here), they take on an entirely different connotation and people *gasp* ACTUALLY TALK ABOUT THEM.

Several unfortunate and sad recent events have, however, brought the fragility of life to the forefront of public discussion. It is becoming apparent to everyone that your perfectly scripted and manicured existence can be irrevocably shattered in an instant, and sometimes there is nothing you can do but stare death in the face. Do we know how to handle it? Do YOU know how to handle it? I really don't think most of us are ready to face that reality ahead of time... I also think 'ahead of time' is the best time to be ready.

Confession time: I have, for the past (almost) decade, believed...and still do... that I will die young. Of course that term is relative, so let's say before I'm forty. There is no particular reason, although there are contributing factors - namely that I have diabetes (which I will admit that I often manage much more poorly than I should... But that's another story. Message me) and also that I am pursuing a career that will quite likely take me to places where I will become a target of unnamed groups with guns and keys to the local impoverished, torturous jail. Mostly though, it's just a gut feeling.

I'm not bothered by the fact that I'll die. Everyone does, and I'd rather die early fighting for justice and showing love to troubled people than in my eighties or nineties never having lived the life I dream about now. Ever since I can remember, even before choosing journalism as a career, I decided I wanted to die saving someone else's life. I have watched hundreds of crime fighting shows and action movies imagining myself jumping in front of the bullet or pushing the character out of the way just as the car hits me. Maybe that's weird, but if the opportunity ever arose where it was my life against someone else's, I'd rather die for them and by imagining it I figured I wouldn't feel afraid when the time came.

What does bother me are the people I know who I (metaphorically speaking, of course) would miss. You always hear about people who lived wishing they could've spoken to the person who passed just one more time, said that one more thing... What if we reverse it? What if the person dying never got the chance to say everything they needed or wanted to say before their life ended? Terminal patients talk about this often, but I'm thinking more along the lines of a drive by shooting or a car accident. Or even if you, or someone you love, just relocates or circumstances change and you don't get to tell them how much they meant to you. What then?

My dilemma.

Especially in the wake of the shootings and the bombing in the States over the past year... I've made the decision to take every chance I have to let people know I love them and why I do. Because things happen, and if my gut feelings are true and I do die 'before my time' I want those people to know beyond a shadow of a doubt how I feel about them. Why is that a dilemma? I know you're asking. In itself, it is not; the dilemma is how much is too much? One text a week saying I love you? A Facebook message after a month or two telling you how amazing you are and that I'm proud of you and proud to be your friend? If you're going through a rough time, is a daily reminder of why you're a blessing going to get annoying? What about a letter once or twice a year detailing what you mean to me and why?

I have done all of these. Some were well received, others weren't. Some have no reply, even months after I pressed the Send button. Other people... and these are the ones I'm most worried about... Seem to appreciate them less and less over time. I try not to get overwhelming or annoying, but there are just times where I feel really strongly that I need to let my loved ones know that I love them; to confirm that they matter in case something happens to me or the relationship, in case it's Game Over and I don't get another turn. Maybe it's because I need to be validated in my friendships and by validating others I hope to get it in return. Maybe it's because I believe I won't last. Maybe it's something else entirely that drives this message madness... Maybe it's a combination of all of those.

Maybe it's good, maybe it's bad... but I'm done with maybes. So if you're out there and I annoy you, I'm sorry... and I'm not sorry. You see, I'd rather err on the side of you knowing then for me to walk out the door tomorrow and tragically die, not having told you how much I love you.