“House” is the New Word for “Dorm”
Today was exciting. I didn’t win the lottery, nor did I set a personal record on my treadmill journey (although, yesterday was close!). I did spend the evening in Lafayette, and it was so nice to feel like I was at home. I love Parke County, I love my house — but to know that there is another place in the world that is going to feel like home felt really, really good. 
Baby Brother and I ran some errands this morning, and during lunch, we decided that on a gorgeous day, it made no sense to go bowling — but we were going to go, anyway. So, we bought socks and headed to the bowling alley, where we had such a blast. I love that kid! My combined scores didn’t add up to 100. Needless to say, I won’t be joining any bowling leagues at Purdue. Sigh.
After our bowling adventure, I swapped cars with Mom and headed to Lafayette for dinner with a friend. As I drove into town, I decided to take a quick detour and visit my dorm. I called Mom to let her know that I was driving by my new home, and instead of saying I was driving by my dorm, I said, “Mom, I’m driving by my house!” Whoops. Then, I decided that it will be my house, really — so “house” is the new word for “dorm.”
Tomorrow looks to be a pretty eventful day. I have early practice for FFA — State Convention at Purdue is next week! My Ag Communications team is filming a commercial for our presentation, which should be eventful. Four crazy girls trying to be serious — oh no! After practice, I have a scholarship luncheon at the country club that I didn’t know existed. Interesting. Then, Baby Brother has a baseball game in the evening. Last night, his team broke their two-year losing streak — hopefully it was a confidence issue and now they’ll be unstoppable! Speaking of baseball – my RED SOX won over the Yankees tonight. Am I excited? Oh, just a little bit. Anyway, to wrap up tomorrow, I’ve got to put together boxes of cookies for my two favorite Marines in Japan. My favorite hobby? Seeing how obnoxious I can make their boxes of goodies. They secretly love it. I think a pink theme is in order this time!
Have a blessed day!
Good Morning!
Ah, another summer morning-turned-afternoon. I have to quit sleeping in so late, because then I am never tired, and the vicious cycle starts all over again. Oh well, no worries — I will just have to revamp my sleeping pattern before August! Hello, Hillenbrand (air conditioned mostly-upperclass dorm). Hello, Purdue Pete. Jackpot.
I’m currently waiting to find the motivation to get ready and head to the gym. Believe it or not, it’s one of my favorite places to go. Running is a good form of therapy, aside from the “you’re at the gym sweating, why turn on the air conditioning?” mentality that has swept over my gym. Turn on the air conditioning so I don’t keel over on mile 2, instead of mile 4…please?!
Anyway, it was a lazy weekend so I have to crack the whip today. I should have made a new playlist: “Days When You Can’t Leave The Treadmill Until You’ve Seen 4 Miles.” I’ll get to that later. As for now, my motivation has been spotted and I am off to catch it before it leaves again.
Have a marvelous day, bloggers!
Archive: Valentines Day
It’s time for the infamous “It’s Almost Valentine’s Day” Facebook note. This year, my friends, I promise not to bash the wretched holiday too much — although, if I see one more heart-shaped balloon or advertisement for a dozen roses, I will go into an uncontrollable rage of fury. I will not be handing out Disney Princess valentines to all of Riverton Parke, nor will I recognize that everyone under the sun sent flowers to the office at school. HOWEVER (this is the part I forgot on my first copy) – if you would like to send pink tulips, roses, or heck, even carnations, to Miss Sara Yelich at Riverton Parke High School on Friday – the address is 4907 South Coxville Road, Montezuma, Indiana, 47862. hahahahahaha [I had to throw in that bit of self-promotion. Now, let's get down to business]
Fast-forward to Saturday night – February 14, yes, that day. Unless you have that special someone in your life, you will probably be sitting on the couch in your pajamas and fuzzy socks, crying over sappy chick flicks, and spending the evening with your men, Ben and Jerry. Even if you refuse to celebrate this Hallmark holiday, don’t deny that you will be secretly mourning your lack of reason to celebrate. P.S. I Love You and The Notebook were made to be cried over on February 14. Don’t let their directors down.
As I pondered what to base my note upon this year, I said, “What am I going to want to tell myself on Saturday? What will I need to hear, and anxiously pace by my phone in hopes for a text message that, just like a good fortune cookie, says the right thing?” Then, it hit me. I looked in the mirror and said, “Hello, Sara, this is yourself. I love you, that’s all you need. You are all that you need this week.“
I say that with no relation to my scandalous anti-boy facebook note — everyone deserves a good relationship. Everyone deserves to be loved, to be admired, to be respected. But before you go searching for that and wanting someone else to give that to you, ask yourself these questions: do I love myself? Do I admire myself? Most of all, do I respect myself? Before someone else can answer these three questions, you must answer them for yourself.
Do you love yourself? Take some time and have a “Me Day.” They’re my prescription for everything. If you like to run, jog an extra mile or two. If music is your thing, don’t turn off your iPod. Tune the world out and spend the day with yourself. Yes, that means shutting your phone off – tough, I know. The time that you spend with yourself – not with your rebound boyfriend or that one girl who you’re “kind of talking to” – will be the time that heals your soul. I promise.
Do you admire yourself? Sit down and think of ten qualities of which you have been blessed. Maybe you’re a beast at math or you have common sense to die for (two qualities I envy) – those make you who you are. Be proud of that, and know that you were wonderfully made for an exceptional purpose.
Do you respect yourself? Not in the traditional sense – “don’t sleep around,” “don’t do drugs,” that sort of common knowledge kind of thing. Merriam-Webster’s wants to know if, by respect, you hold yourself in high or special regard? Do you have a few standards (or, in my case – a ridiculous amount) for yourself, for the situations that you place yourself in? Respect was all Aretha Franklin was askin’ for – and it’s what you deserve.
In the movie When Harry Met Sally, Harry tells Sally all of the little things that he loves about her – from the crinkle in her nose to her special sandwich order. He has paid attention to the details that make her so attractive to him, and that is why he loves her. He concludes his confession with “And it’s not because I’m lonely. . .I came here tonight because when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.”
Guess what? You have to spend the rest of your life with somebody, and that somebody is you. Whether you’re happily married or unhappily searching eHarmony and match.com (or even the Missed Connections on CraigsList), you will forever be y-o-u, so it would be best for you to start the rest of your life as soon as possible. Find a mirror, look at yourself straight in the eye (don’t critique your eyeshadow or lackthereof – you look fine!), and repeat the following: “Hello, (your name here).It doesn’t matter that we will be (CHOOSE ONE: together with [insert special someone's name] / alone) on Valentine’s Day, because we will be together forever; this is just another ordinary day. I love you, I admire you, and I respect you. I am all that I need right now.” Does it matter that, by this time, your dog thinks you are crazy and your roommates are calling for help? Absolutely not. When you love yourself, nothing else matters.
The more you know who you are, and what you want, the less you let things upset you. -Lost In Translation
Archive: A Test
I was on my way to the yearbook staff Christmas party at our advisor’s home. As I turned onto a side street, I noticed a car was parked in the middle of the road. Darkness had already fallen over the icy roads, and, being alone, I simply edged closer to the car. As I curiously sat in the middle of the road in my warm and toasty car, I saw an older man on the ground at the side of the road, near a driveway. In hindsight, this should have caught my attention — but as I saw him scrambling about, I assumed he was decorating for Christmas after work, scrambling to finish last minute chores before his wife got home. It was then, though, that I realized the fear and anxiety on the woman’s face who was stepping out of the car parked in front of me.
As I watched the woman edge herself across the icy roadway, I began to piece scenerios together in my mind like a puzzle. When she made it to the older gentleman, I realized that he was not scurrying about on the ground to work — he couldn’t get himself up off of the icy pavement. Once he stood up, she patiently took his arm and walked him to the side of the vehicle. This all happened within a few seconds, but it seemed like an eternity in my mind. Why wasn’t I offering to help? Wasn’t I always instruced to stay in my car on dark roads — especially when strangers were involved? Did they need a cell phone? An ambulance? What was my problem and why wasn’t I responding?!
I drove away in awe of myself. I had stayed in my comfort zone and potentially put the life of someone else on the line, rather than my own. I was stunned by my selfishness. I still don’t know what happened to that man, or who the woman was who rescued him. I do know that, as I drove way, doing all that I could do — praying for the man, for the woman who rescued him — I was faced with a consequence more heartbreaking than that of what could have came from reaching out to a stranger. I was faced with a guilt-stricken conscience that seems to only be relieved by sharing this story — the story of my mistake — with my steadfast Facebook Note followers.
Today was not a good day. I couldn’t give you a particular reason, but I can guarantee you — I have had days much better than this one. When I drove upon this man on the side of the road, I was wallowing in my self-pity, basking in gloom, knowing that I was the only person on Earth who could have a rotten day. As I watched this man scurry across the icy driveway, and when I finally made sense of the pieces of this rapid-moving, real life puzzle, I heard The Voice, the one of the Big Man Upstairs, very plainly say: “You aren’t the only one having a bad day; be glad that what you are moping over is all you have to sulk about.” Talk about filling me with guilt. How true is that, though? On a bad day, it seems as if the world is moving around you, that things are great for everyone — everyone but you. My friends, I assure you, things are not wonderful for everyone. Look around! The world is hurting. People are pleading to see your passion — the spark of hope that you possess — once again. Believe! Your bad day will be over before you can blink. Know that tomorrow, you will be faced with a better day. You are blessed with that promise; others are faced with the trials of a new day, rather than the blessings it will behold.
This Christmas season, count your many blessings. Don’t be hesitant to reach out a hand to a stranger — your comfort zone is no place to spend your days when the world is aching for your touch.
Archive: Running
Today, I laced up my trusty pink Nikes and hit the pavement again. I questioned my sanity as I reached the two-mile mark … never have I ran three miles, three days in a row (and judging by my aching legs, never will I do it again).
I was about two and a half miles into my run when I came upon a crossroad. I could continue on my straight path and be home very soon, or I could turn and face the hills that stretch over a portion of Parke County pavement. As I felt the sun on my face, I decided to take advantage of being able to run in the first place, and turned the corner — only to be greated by a nice, long hill.
Now, this hill is not too steep, but it might be the longest incline I have ever walked upon. I reached the top and put another half-mile of wear and tear on my shoes before I turned around to face that long, deceiving hill. “A few more steps, a few more steps,” I would assure myself … only to find out that, of course, a few more steps lay in front of me before I reached the top of that hill.
On my last “few more steps,” I thought I was at the top. I thought I had conquered that hill. It took a few, few more steps, though, to really feel the change in pace; the ease that comes with running downhill is a blessing to any pair of running shoes. When I finally hit that easy decline, I had a lightbulb moment. You know the kind — a moment where you want to stop and repeat yourself a million times to make sure you never forget what you just realized.
Out of all sports, I’m convinced that running is the easiest to relate to life. Tonight, the lesson I learned on a country road in Parke County really hit home. Last week, a good friend of mine took the time out of his day to have a quick, ten minute chat on Facebook with me, after finding out I was having a rough day. After I vented my frustration, he simply said, “Just remember–dusk is darkest right before dawn.” At the time, I thought it was a good quote. One that related to the situation at hand, and not some overused cliche (which is important to this quote junkie!). It was just very hard to apply. When I reached the downhill slope of the road today, I knew exactly what he meant.
Let me explain. From afar, the top of the hill seemed to be at a certain point. In my case, the peak was at the next telephone pole. It was a reachable distance, and I began to sprint a little harder. When I reached that telephone pole, I realized I was not getting the glory that comes with running uphill yet. I was still struggling with every step. My legs hurt, I was out of breath for the unneccesary sprint work I did all the way up the hill, and frankly, laying in the grass like my golden retriever looked pretty enticing. I had reached the telephone pole and nothing got easier. Had I lied to myself? Were my eyes tricking me? I stuck it out, and sure enough, my steps became easier. That’s when it happened — when the lightbulb turned on above my head.
It’s so easy to give up. To throw in the towel, to quit, to say, “hasta la vista, problem — you win.” Trust me, it’s not any easier to keep running on a hot day with praise and worship music than it is to run with Kanye West. In fact, hearing how much God loves me made me want to quit much earlier (if he loved me when I started, why bother running the extra mile?). I digress. When I reached that telephone pole, I was at, what looked like, the top of the hill. I had conquered a quarter-mile stretch of, for lack of a better phrase, hell. The few steps of a plateau that greated me at that telephone pole were the hardest steps. They were the unexpected probelm you encounter, the bad day that just gets worse. With a few more steps, though, the ease of one step conquered the frustration of ten before. I just had to keep running to get there.
That hill could have gotten the best of me, just as any problem in life can get the best of us. From a distance, most things seem do-able. When you get down to it though, not much comes easy. The details, the planning, the negativity from those around you can wear your spirit down. And, regardless of how close you may be to success, giving up is simply easier. Is it worth it though? Is it worth risking everythng you have worked for to get an easy break for a few more steps? I could have very easily quit when I got to that telephone pole. I could have said, “Look here. If the top of the hill isn’t where I wanted it to be, then I am not worrying about the rest of it,” but I didn’t. I realized that the last few steps count just as much as the first few steps.
So, how does this all tie together? The last few steps were the worst, end of story, but dusk is darkest right before dawn. I had to know that, in a few more steps, everything would get easier. So, before you quit, before you throw in the towel and call it a day, look at how many “few more steps” you have to go. The last few will be the worst. They will tear you down, crush your spirit — but standing at the bottom of the hill, looking upward, you will feel like you are on top of the world. My friends, I urge you, don’t give up. Stick it out for a few more steps, and things will, indeed, get better.
Archive: The Breakup Blues
I suppose I am one of the last people who should be writing a note like this, due to my cynicism and lack of success in the love and relationship section of life. However, there are some things that need to be said. As a bit of an epilogue, I must thank the authors of the book “He’s Just Not That Into You” for opening my eyes and allowing me to be the voice to many, many ears. Okay, not that many — it’s a Facebook note, not a best selling novel … yet.
But, in lieu of my vow to spend my summer doing everything but chasing boys (more on that later), I have had the opportunity to sit back and watch some girls very near and dear to my heart work their butts off for a guy. And ladies, this note is for you. All names, places, and events will hopefully be changed, but I’m not promising anything. Don’t take me to court.
Over the last few weeks, I have really dug deep to find why girls will work so hard for a guy, and I have come up with a few main reasons.
a) They know no different. They have spent their life with a boyfriend and don’t know what to do when there isn’t a stable guy in their life for them to lean on. And whether or not “leaning on” them is actually helping or hurting, they need a guy in their life simply to have one.
b) They need one to feel worthy. They need a guy to feel like they are simply worthy of having one. By having a man in their life, they feel pretty and confident and everything you need to feel great. They’ve grown so fond of having a guy near to tell them how wonderful they are, that they don’t know how to tell themself how great they are.
c) It’s simply the chase. They just like the anticipation and adrenaline rush that comes with chasing after the boy of the month. And to know that they have them caught? Even better. I have a feeling these girls like rollercoasters, too.
d) They can’t say goodbye. The worst of all, and the one I’m going to focus on the most. Whether they dated this guy for three years or liked him from afar for three months, they can’t tell their feelings for him, “goodbye.” Even worse, they can’t sit back and tell him goodbye, which ensures that feelings are going to be around for just as long.
You know you fall into one of these categories, m’dears. Keep reading.
First of all, let me say this: “talking” is ridiculous. I have no reservations in saying that. It’s nuts. Total madness. If you’re “talking” for more than oh, two weeks, then someone needs to, in the words of my father, put the fire out or let it burn. Make up your minds. And, in defense of the guys, playing hard-to-get in those crucial first few weeks doesn’t help them any. But that is beside the point. I understand that you need to get to know each other, but isn’t that what dates are for? Isn’t that why you go talk over coffee or get ice cream or go to dinner? Call me crazy, but I really thought that’s why you dated someone — to get to know them. If you do all your getting-to-know when you’re not even “official,” then you might as well tell ‘em all your faults during the first conversation. Find all the things that will eventually drive you two apart and throw ‘em out there, so neither of you waste your time, tears, and most importantly, cell phone minutes. To quote my favorite book, “these guys exist because you let them to.” Talking for months is acceptable because we let it be acceptable. Ladies, we’ve got to put our foot down.
Moving on. Repeat the following sentence: “I do not need a guy to make me feel like I am the best thing to walk on this planet.” Say it a few times, until you believe it. Luckily, I’ve realized it early. No one “needs” someone in their life. Okay, I take that back somewhat. I need my momma and poppa, and my lil’ bro, and probably whichever friends are reading this because they’re the great ones that put up with my madness, but I do not need a guy – - a common acquaintance — to live, to breathe, to survive. And neither do you. You may feel better when you have someone to hug or watch movies with or buy you dinner and pick out your favorite colors of M&M’s, but you don’t need him to survive. (Boyfriends who are reading this, I apologize once again, but you don’t “need” her, either.) Now I’m not saying that you’re not compatible with your significant other or that they don’t brighten up even the darkest days of your life, however — don’t become so dependent on them that you can’t get yourself out of a rut when you need to. Don’t depend on their scheduled phone calls and Wednesday-night-after-bowl ing-with-the-boys text messages to survive. It’s those little things that I’m saying you can live without. And believe me. You can.
When it comes to having trouble saying goodbye, I am the queen of it. I will be the first to admit that I have a hard time putting things behind me. Maybe it’s because I was a sensitive young’n, or I’ve been burnt a few too many times, but as easy as it is for me to forgive, it’s just as hard for me to forget — the good. Have you ever noticed that the minute you try to get someone out of your life, they’re always there? You hear songs that were popular when you were “talking” (bleh!). Somehow everyone is talking about that great movie that you saw with him two years ago. Oh, and your ‘rents started caring about how he is doing. This is Murphy’s Law, my friends, so buckle up and deal with it. Like I just told a very dear friend of mine, you must give yourself some “Me Time” if you ever want a chance of getting over that saying goodbye-hump. You must put yourself first in every aspect of your life. Buy yourself your favorite food, steal the TV from your family, watch your favorite movies, and give yourself time to heal. Once you have the crying and tears out of your system, you must buckle up and say “I am putting this behind me.” Everytime you catch yourself feeling pathetic, find a distraction. Go shopping, run, play the tuba, do whatever you can to get it out of your head. After a while, you’ll find that you are doing a whole lot less thinking and a whole lot more living. It’s a liberating feeling.
And while you’re running or jumping or swimming or drawing, be sure to remind yourself of why this person is out of your life. Remember those evenings when you cried yourself to sleep because it slipped his mind to call you back, or his phone just shut off all of a sudden (What? Does he not have a house phone he could have used?). And most of all, remember that he is the one who lost. There’s no doubt that whoever is reading this deserves someone who wants them back (probably because I have the most stellar friends in the world, but I’m a little biased). If he is not sitting and crying over you, why in the world should you be crying over him? Darlings, if he loved you as much as you think he does, he’d still be with you — no excuses. And since he’s not with you, cure your puffy eyes after a few days, run off that extra chocolate icing you ate (or eat some extra chocolate icing to gain back the pounds that you lost), and go find yourself a new man — one who adores you totally and completely.
Better yet, go find yourself. End of sentence. Go find who you are, who you were meant to be. Figure out what your deepest passions are in life, what you are beyond great at, and what you shouldn’t ever try again. This has been why I have vowed to spend my summer doing everythinig BUT chasing boys. In the first two weeks of summer, I have already found that I can run a mile and a half, I can clean a refrigerator better than Martha Stewart, and that I am basically amazing when it comes to cooking. I have organized kitchen shelves, color-coded my closet, and found out that I need to work on throwing stuff away. I have found part of me. The homemaker part, but a part of me, nonetheless. Instead of sitting on the couch, waiting for a boy to text message me or call when he claims he will, I have become productive and caused my parents to go into shock. Hey, every rose has a thorn. But, don’t chase boys. Don’t go out with one just to have a guy in your life. Eventually, you’re going to be married and beg and plead for some time without a guy in your life . Use this time to find who you are, and the person who loves the new you will show up. (This I can’t promise, though. When I can assure you of that, I will let you know — I’m still getting myself to believe that same thing.)
So, my dear friends, I beg you, step back from whatever relationship you may be in. Whether you’re “talking” (ughh!), or dating, or trying so hard to get over him, step back and evaluate the situation. Does this person really want to be with you? Do they deserve the great person that you are? Do they love you more than you love them? Because that is what you deserve. And if they don’t, then accept that fact and find someone that does. I don’t say this to go around and be the break-up fairy, although that would be pretty hysterical. (Don’t you see it? Very punk-rock looking with boy-hater Taylor Swift music following me wherever my travels take me? haha). I simply say this because, as cliche and idealistic as it may sound, I think that everyone has someone out there who is made for them. If you’re with someone who is just “okay,” aren’t you wasting your time and theirs? And you never know when someone who is beyond great is going to be knocking at your door. (Figuratively, my friends. Unless he’s a UPS man.) So blare some music, eat a few cookies, and say it with me, “I deserve better than this.”
Love you guys
A few more quotes from my favorite book:
“He’s sniffing for something better, and when he doesn’t find it, he gets lonely and comes “home.” It’s not that he’s so into you. It’s that he’s so not into being alone. Don’t give him the chance to break up with you for the fourth time. (Even the idea of it sounds beneath you, doesn’t it?) Reset your breakup maximum to one and move on.”
“Deciding to get back together with someone is a complicated and difficult decision. Just remember that the person you are getting back together with is the same person who, not long before, looked you in your beautiful face, took full stock of you and all your qualities, and told you that he was no longer in need of your company.”
Archive: Spring Break
I had become rather cynical as the weeks before Spring Break went on. Honestly, people had simply let me down. In the last week, though, my faith in the human race has been renewed and restored. This note is a recollection of the lessons that random strangers taught me — by simply doing the right thing.
Lesson One.
Showing Interest Can Make Someone’s Day A Little Better.
We had stopped for gas near the Indiana/Kentucky line. Crothersville, actually — home of Miss Laura Bradford. Anyway, the ladies working in the gas station asked if we were traveling, where we were headed, and before we left — told us that they would pray for us to have a safe trip. They could have simply took our money and told us to “have a good day,” in a nice, emotionless voice, but they didn’t. They took a minute to show concern for four strangers, and their kind words set a whole new tone for our trip.
Lesson Two.
Nice Guys Really Do Exist.
I love people-watching. In fact, it is one of my all-time favorite ways to kill some time. We had stopped to eat in Tennessee, and I saw an older couple come in to eat. As they approached their table, the husband pulled his wife’s chair out before she sat down. The ease of their table made me want to join them in their conversation, and it took a few extra blinks to make sure I wasn’t dreaming this surreal couple up. From that point on, guys were opening doors, saying, “Yes, Ma’am,” and doing the right thing. I guess I realized that good guys really are out there, still. They just don’t live in Indiana.
Lesson Three.
Pay Attention; Surprises Bring Smiles.
As I stood in Cracker Barrell, I saw a book that looked good. “Stories of Faith” is a book filled with inspiring stories, accompanied by Norman Rockwell pictures. I picked the book up, thumbed through it, and set it back down. Mom took a while to leave the store, and when she walked out, she had the book in her hand. She said, “I saw you looking at it — take this as an opportunity to learn a lesson. Pass on this moment to someone else, when the chance arrives.” I have always been one for random acts of kindness. When one touches your life, it makes you want to send one to someone else.
Lesson Four.
God Has A Sense Of Humor.
We were exhausted after being in the car for thirteen hours on our way to Pensacola. It was two in the morning, and all we wanted to do was collapse in a bed. No matter how much you may love your family, after thirteen hours in about eight square feet of space, you really just want to be away from them for a while. We all had a weary look on our faces, but as the elevator door closed on our way to our room, a sign was revealed that said, “SMILE.” What a reminder from The Man Upstairs. We were tired and weary, but we mustered up enough energy to put a smile on our face. The simple reminders of the strength we receive from God are daily blessings that one should bask in, every day.
Lesson Five.
Love What You Do.
On our way to the beach the next morning, Jessie, part of the housekeeping staff, knocked on our door and asked what we needed. As we talked with her, we learned that Jessie loved her job. She was alright with not being famous, not being the CEO of a Fortune 500 company, or not bringing home a seven-digit paycheck. That’s because Jessie loved her job. As she told us to have a blessed day, she reminded us that, when you love what you do, you share your spark with others.
Later in the week, we had dinner at the Akershaus Banquet Hall with Disney Princesses, in Norway in Epcot. Our waiter, Magnus, was from Norway. He explained to us that he took a year off of school to intern at Disney, and he absolutely loved it. He loved the weather, the atmosphere, and most importantly, the people. Our evening was a bit brighter because Magnus made us feel like we were the reason he got up to go to work every morning. Plus, he was adorable. I wish he would have taken our offer to come home with us. haha. =]
Lesson Six.
Listen; God is Close.
I was on the balcony, loving the beach and everything that goes with it. As I watched the moon rise over the ocean, I was having a pretty good talk with God. All of a sudden, I realized there was music playing by the pool. “You know that I love you, I can’t help myself — I love you and nobody else,” lyrics from one of my all-time favorite songs. I could have just taken it as a coincidence that my favorite song played in a time like that — but it wasn’t. It was God’s way of reassuring me that he was nearby. Things like that happen every day; it’s up to us to recognize them.
Lesson Seven.
It’s A Small, Small World.
We had went out to dinner at Flounders — a fun restaurant right on the beach. Dad looks across the restaurant and says, “Hey! I know that guy. He was in one of my classes I taught a month or so ago.” He had yet to make his way over to talk to him, but had the waiter send him a piece of simply amazing key lime pie. About the time Dad stands up to go talk to guy, we get the same dessert. Here we were, 900 miles from home, and we were in the same restaurant as someone we knew. It’s a small world, lesson one.
I had worn my Purdue shirt to Disney when we went to Animal Kingdom, and as I stepped on the bus, the driver said “Purdue University, huh? Are you from Indiana?” He then proceeded to ask me if I knew where Clinton was. For those of you who don’t know, Clinton, Indiana, is a small town of 10,000, maybe? It’s known for not much other than the Little Italy Festival, held on Labor Day weekend. Roger, the bus driver, then told me that his neighbor was originally from Clinton — his son had went to school with my dad. Craziness. The SAME day, we got on a train to ride around the park, and the people sitting behind us said, “Purdue, huh? Do you know where Clinton is?” That’s when I really wanted to freak out. They had lived in Clinton for a few years, where the guy worked as an EMT. It’s a small, small world, lessons two and three.
Lesson Eight.
It’s Okay to Take Candy From Strangers.
Dad’s best friend from his years in the Marines lives in Pensacola with his family. We had went out to dinner with them one night, and spent quite a while talking at their house, but it was still the first time we had met. When they came to tell us goodbye on Sunday evening, they brought us Easter candy. Mom and Dad didn’t even get us candy for Easter (Not a guilt trip, I promise). But for these people, who had met us once, to bring us a big thing of candy for Easter, reminded me that good people really are out there. And it’s okay to take candy from semi-strangers.
Lesson Ten.
Compassionate People Are Still Out There.
At 17 years old, I am not embarassed to say that I still have a stuffed animal who I hold near and dear to my heart. He has been with me since I was born, and before we left, Mom made sure he came on vacation with us. Before I went to bed on Saturday night in Pensacola, I looked around the hotel room and couldn’t find him. I knew he had came inside, so Dad called the front desk and they said that they would look, but no one would be in until the next morning. I was devastated — but not as much as Mom and Dad. Seventeen years with this ol’ thing, and he was gone. The next morning, Mom jokingly asked Jessie (the nice housekeeping lady) if she could go search the laundry. Jessie took her down there, where Mom talked to an anonymous head of laundry. She explained the situation, and the lady promised that she would do all she could. In less than an hour, we heard a knock on the door. The kind lady told us that she had seen the look in Mom’s eyes and couldn’t let us leave without my stuffed animal. The people in laundry had dumped every basket and searched for him, and he finally appeared. People, my friends, are still as compassionate as they used to be — you just have to search for them, sometimes.
Lesson Twelve.
Strangers Are Okay.
Strangers freak me out. When Dad stopped and asked a somewhat shady looking Cuban man for directions, I was praying he didn’t get mugged. When the little Cuban man told us that the map was wrong and he would show us how to get there, I was praying for my life. I could see it — we pull in this long driveway and he tortures us with cigar smoke and makes us sing Spanish lullabies. [Really!] But, George the short Cuban man got us to Orlando in half of the time, with zero toll roads. Strangers, my friends, aren’t bad people, after all.
Lesson Thirteen.
Serenity Can Come When You Least Expect It.
Only the Yelich family could manage to go to Disney World on the busiest day in it’s history. Magic Kingdom was a mess when we arrived on Tuesday morning. Despite the crowds of the Covered Bridge Festival, we weren’t even close to being prepared for crowds of this magnitude. After fighting our way through the lines of Disney, all we wanted was to relax. After a great dinner with hysterical characters, we weren’t looking forward to fighting the crowds — at allll. When we walked outside, though, the fireworks show was beginning, so I made Mom and Dad quit walking so I could see it. In those twenty minutes, the stress from the whole day relinquished. The crowds on the way out weren’t that bad, and a wave of peace continued to cover the rest of the trip.
Lesson Fourteen.
Compensate For Others.
Mom thought it would be smart to buy dining passes at Disney — you wouldn’t have to carry any money, all of your meals were taken care of, plus snacks. It was simple, right? Not so much. By the time we were on our last day at Disney, we didn’t know what was a snack, what was a kiosk, and what we could eat without being charged an arm and a leg. Cynthia worked at a cafe in Hollywood Studios. We stopped in for a pastry for breakfast, and she sensed that we were a little frustrated with our WDW experience. She said, “Come back around 11. We’ll get you lunch and spend the rest of your meals — don’t waste your money.” We weren’t going to go back, but we did. She took the meals we still had left and gave us three bags full of food. She explained that a lot of people were confused by the dining plan, and she just wanted to make sure we didn’t lose any money. Mom had tried to get someone to explain it to her since we arrived, but she never got the same answer twice. Cynthia didn’t have to explain to us what was going on — she didn’t have to make sure we used all of our meals — but she did. She took up the slack for what the rest of the staff had lacked in, and by doing that, she made our lives a little bit better.
My lessons are done. Although they may seem like useless ramblings, I’m glad that, in a few months, I’ll be able to come back and sort through the little things that I learned in a short week. People, my friends, really just want someone to care for, because, in caring for another, we fill our hearts with hope. Hope for a brighter future. In the words of the annoying theme song during the Carousel of Progress, “there’s a great big, beautiful tomorrow shining at the end of every day.” Keep your eyes open — you never know what lessons you’ll learn tomorrow.
Archive: Valentine’s Day ’08
America has a love affair with love. You know, the noun meaning “strong affection for another arising out of kinship or personal ties,” or the verb defined by Webster’s as “to hold dear; see: CHERISH,” — the thing that many people think they find, but few people really have.
The Notebook, Dirty Dancing, all the way back to Casablanca — Americans are fascinated by people falling in love. You see, falling in love in the movies isn’t a process — it’s a sudden act. In just a brief second, people realize they are in love. I really don’t buy that. Call me a cynic, but love takes time. I am not talking about “in lust” or “in like”. Both of those are easy to fall into and easy to fall out of — for one of the two in the relationship, most often. I am talking about the peaceful, selfish, constantly content kind of love. I think “content” is an important part of that, though. And being content is so different from being indifferent or fearing change. It is about loving where you are at, at that exact moment in time — wanting no more, no less, and loving your surroundings and company. I think that is what those cute old couples have; you see them sitting on their front porch, rocking in the rocking chairs and not saying a word — but looking like they’re having the time of their life. They’re not worrying about the dishes in the sink or what needs to be done by next week … all that matters is that the one they love is by their side. But you have to wonder why those couples are so few and far between …
I have lost my train of thought because my ol’ buddy Dane Cook is on TV … but basically — it’s my “February is the lame month of love” note. And really, how many people out there go into a relationship looking for love, instead of just wanting a companion — someone to be there to do nothing with, but enjoy every second of it. Because, I think it’s those moments that lead to “love” — and that is exactly what everyone needs.
Archive: Thanksgiving
I strongly believe that if it weren’t for the name “Thanksgiving,” the true meaning of the holiday would be overlooked, just as it is for many others. People are often so busy searching for the perfect seasoning for the stuffing and the most festive tablecloth for the family dinner, that they misplace the true meaning of the holiday.
So, here we go. A short list of what I’m thankful for.
[disclaimer: I have no doubt that I will unintentionally leave some things out.]
-Family. Related or not, they have taught me a bundle. Mom has taught me to be true to myself, to laugh often and live for no one but myself. Dad has taught me to set my standards high in everything, and that a little discipline can go a long way. When in need of a laugh, someone to “Crank Dat” with, or a pretty good study buddy, I haven’t ever had to look farther than the 12-year old genius that I am proud to call my brother. Grandma&Grandpa for spoiling me beyond belief, and some pretty cool cousins, as well. =] And Brad&Kara … for not being related, they have taken me under their wing and taught me a lot, whether they know it or not. Having a “big brother” like Brad to disapprove of any guy I mention and give me a hard time has meant a lot, and Kara has taught me the value of second chances.
-Friends. Wait, I take that back. School friends. [FFA kids, you get your own] This year, I have grown to appreciate the value of a few close friends. I have suffered through ceramics and chem2 with a pretty amazing girl named Megan, who has given me a lot of laughs and taught me a few things along the way. I enjoy going to school every day, because I know that, no matter what may happen before I get there, you guys will be there to brighten my day up. From new friends from Notre Dame, to a best friend who has been around for 11 years and counting, to getting closer with a crazy group of girls who love milkshakes and old people restaurants, I am extremely grateful for every single one of you.
-FFA Friends. Especially those from a small school called Carroll. When I need an escape from the drama of high school, or an ear to vent to, or someone to share a really good “Sara-moment” with, I know that you all are only a phone call away. I know that my high school experience would not have been what it is shaping into if it wasn’t for you guys. Malena&Sarah, thanks for always being there to listen to my latest story and lend out some advice. Trav, I might not survive if it weren’t for you. Thanks for being there to hear my ups and downs and everything in between, best friend. =] Janna, I’m glad all is well again. I have missed having a twin. Everyone else, you know I can’t name you all. But I love you all dearly and know that you are the reason I am who I am. From Arkansas to Alabama, Posey County to Carroll County, I couldn’t have a better group of friends.
-Faith. The past year has been hectic. There have been extravagant highs and extreme lows, and I know that I probably wouldn’t have made it through some days without my faith in God. Granted, I had a few days where it took an encouraging word from a friend to get me to remember, but I know that I have made it through quite a few things this year by the grace of God, and that alone.
-Freedom. APUSH, the Voice of Democracy Essay, and the Americanism & Government Test has made me a lot more thankful for my freedom. I always appreciated it, but I haven’t had the courage to live out that appreciation until recently. But, every year I get a year closer to being the age of the average American soldier. Every year, the ages of the soldiers on the news become closer to being the ages of my classmates. The average high school student from a few years ago, maybe the star quarterback or the kid who could out-run everyone else in PE, is now the average American soldier — putting his or her life on the line so I can sit here and write this. They don’t have it easy, so taking a few minutes to pray for their safety is the least that we can do, don’t you think?
-Football. Not quite, but it when with my “F” theme. Props to Rockville though, and best of luck. I have had to swallow quite a large piece of humble pie to get the nerve to cheer for Rockville, but it is awesome that you’re headed to the Dome. Bring one home to Parke County.
-Facebook. Now, this one I am serious about. I tried to explain the importance of Facebook to my mom the other day. She said, “Sara, why don’t you just call your friends like normal kids do?” And I realized that it would be completely impossible to keep in regular contact with this many people. If it weren’t for Facebook, I would have not known Travis, which means I wouldn’t have known Sarah, Kara, Malena, or Chandler … and I definitely wouldn’t have gotten to keep in touch with some amazing kids I met this summer at a little thing called WLC. I wouldn’t ever have morning Facebook messages with profound thoughts, or be known around the state as “that girl that is addicted to Facebook…” =] So, thanks, Mark Zuckerberg. I owe you one.
Alright. I did leave quite a few things out. Great health, FFA, Parke County, high school basketball, good grades, and just life in general. But they didn’t quite fall into my theme, so they can wait ’til later. For now, kiddies, I am off to bed, for another thing I am thankful for. SLEEP.
Have a lovely day tomorrow, and don’t forget to be thankful. =]
“As we express our gratitude, we must never forget that the highest appreciation is not to utter words, but to live by them.”–John F. Kennedy
I Am Officially On Board.
Well, internet crazes, you have finally gotten the best of me. I have watched YouTube until my eyes went crossed, stalked virtually all of my friends on Facebook, and am now answering the inevitable “What Are You Doing?” question on Twitter. Tonight, though, you won. Tonight, I threw in the towel and quit fighting your battles for the last time. Tonight, I became a blogger. In all honesty, I’m hoping that this blog thing works out & I can become a millionaire while I’m in college. Let’s get to know me a little.
I’m Sara. I’ll be a freshman at Purdue, the best place on Earth. Ok, one of the top 25. I like to write, I can be a little sarcastic, and occasionally, I need a place to vent my bitterness. Let me share my thoughts with you.
To get started, though, I’m going to post a few of my old Facebook notes, which used to be my favorite place to write all sorts of randomness. They might be dated, seasonal, or totally random. I sincerely apologize.
