A Boyfriend? What? Q&A

First, I am going to frankly and candidly address some of the questions/statements I already know I'm going to hear. I'm heading you all off at the pass. Secondly, I'm going to give a small explanation that I don't owe anyone, just cause.  This first part shall be in Q&A format.

Q: But what about Zach?
A: What about him? You know nothing about my previous relationship. You know nothing about what has gone on after that relationship ended. If you did, you wouldn't be asking that question.

Q: Don't you think it's a little soon?
A: I was worried about this, to be honest. Then I talked to one of my favorite people, my cousin Bonnie, and she said something very wise. "There is no time limit on happiness." And there is no time limit to moving on. Again, you know zilch about my previous relationship nor how long he and I had been having problems. We were over a long time before we actually pulled the plug. It doesn't matter if you think it's too soon, it matters if I and Jeremy think it's too soon. We don't. :)

Q: What does Zach think about it?
A: No, the real question is: Alison, do you care what Zach thinks about this?
Yes, if I'm going to be honest. I never wanted to hurt him. But I'm also not going to put my life and happiness on hold due to him. He's done some questionable things since we've been broken up and he hasn't exactly been honest. So, yes I care. But it isn't going to stop me from living my life the way I see fit.


Q: What does your mother think?
A: She thinks I'm 24 years old and can make my own choices, that's what she thinks! She loves me and wants me happy, that's all that she cares about. I'd tell her the same exact thing I'm telling you and she knows it: mind. your. business.

Q: Are you just afraid of being alone?
A: Absolutely not. There isn't actually very much that I am afraid of. I could be alone if I wanted to, but I don't want to and I don't have to be. Why force myself not to be with someone I genuinely care for when there isn't anything that's really standing in our way? I know who I am and Jeremy isn't the type who would want to change me. He likes my silly, candid, and abrasive self. He doesn't want me to be anyone but me. And he gets that people change and grow and we just want to see where this could go. There isn't anything wrong with that so please, don't try to make it so.

Q: Dating another younger guy, huh?
A: Yep. He's 2 and a half years younger than I am. Hey, I've done worse okay? I used to like them way too old for me. Pick your poison.

Q: Well, I'm Zach's friend too and I don't think this is right, so I don't think we should be friends anymore.
A: That just shows you and I were never friends in the first place. Don't let the door hit ya where the good Lord split ya! Bye!



I'm going to be 100% honest with you, reader: I am scared to death. I'm scared what people are going to say, if people are going to give me a hard time about this, and I'm worried about how Zach will take it. Contrary to popular belief, I do care for Zach very very very much...I just don't want to marry him. We are  not meant to be, at least not that I can see right this second. I never wanted to hurt him and I still don't, but if not hurting him means I have to put mine and Jeremy's happiness on hold, I'm not willing to do that. I can't live my life for someone else, that wouldn't be fair. I'm not going to ask Zach to make his decisions with my feelings in mind. He isn't my fiancee anymore, but that doesn't mean I don't want him to be my friend someday. I truly don't want to hurt him, but sometimes that just cant be helped.

And yeah, I'm scared that I'll get hurt. I really hate the idea of another failed relationship under my belt. But if I let fear stop me from giving my heart another shot, I'll never get anywhere. You can't let the fear of pain and heartbreak stop you from letting yourself open up to the possibility of loving someone again. That isn't even living, really. I don't know if Jeremy will still want to be with me in six months and that's okay. He may wake up tomorrow and go, "Oh heck no, this girl is a hot mess," and be on his way. I cant promise I wont change my mind either. But it's a risk we're willing to take. I'm willing to gamble on him, on the possibility of an us.

Here is a question I promise no one will ask. No one will even consider asking it because most people on concentrate on the negative in a situation.

Q: What makes Jeremy Worsham so special?

The answer is simple: He's different, and his kind of different and my kind of different are the same kind of different. He gets why I cry when one of my favorite characters die. In some cases, he'll be crying right along with me. He doesn't try to grab my butt in public after I ask him not to, and he doesn't tell me I'd be lost without him. He knows I wouldn't be. He LIKES that I'm completely capable and that, if I'm mad, I could possibly beat him up. And oh, how he makes me laugh. He truly makes me smile, and I cant remember the last time I just smiled for no reason.

But most importantly, Jeremy inspires me. I haven't always made the best judgement calls and in the past I've had a hard time being in relationships. Sometimes I still throw up this wall and he can just see it on my face, I've completely shut him out. But that's when he just hugs me and tells me he'll wait me out until I'm okay. Jeremy wants me to be better then I ever have been. He makes me want to stop making the same stupid mistakes and just be happy instead of always fighting it. He makes me want to take down those stupid walls I've built to defend myself. He isn't someone I need or want to hide from. It's a nice feeling.

I'm happy. He's happy. So lets just see what happens, neh?

We're just starting this thing, we have no idea where (if anywhere) this is gonna go. The only thing I am asking for is your support. My having a relationship isn't going to affect your life. It isn't going to impede on your day to day and it truthfully has nothing to do with you. I have a huge problem with people getting mad at me over my choices when it has nothing to do with them. You don't have to like every choice I make. I doubt I like every choice you make. If your worried about me, thank you from the bottom of my heart,  but put that worry where it belongs. Respect the fact that I've earned the right to be wrong every now and then, and if I am wrong about this, I'll own it later. But for right now, I have a boyfriend. I do. And no amount of meanness or anger on anyone else's part is going to change that. I'm pretty stubborn like that. Respect me and I'll respect you, that's always been my number 1 rule (besides after number 2, you always flush!) and I hope people will understand what I'm asking.

All the people that matter to us are excited for us. People think we're a great couple and see how happy we make each other. I think in time all the skeptical people will see that. And then there are the people who are going to talk badly about me, accuse me of cheating on Zach and all that other ridiculousness, and to you I say this: KICK ROCKS. I have better things to do with my time then to deal with false accusations and bull. I didn't cheat on Zach. Zach didn't cheat on me. We just ended. And all endings spark new beginnings.

This is the start of something new. And, of course, since it's my life, this should be very interesting.

Alison

This Little Light of Mine...

A few days ago, something happened made me take a minute to stand still. I was forced to sit and think about what it means to have faith, what kind of world I really live in, and whether any of us are ever truly safe. I had to face, not for the first time in my life, the fact that evil really exists and needs to be battled. As an individual, I was horrified, angered, disgusted, saddened, and moved in a way I haven't been in a very long time. And as a member of this society and this nation, I had to assess myself and understand that until we face the true issues and reasons why things like this happen, we'll never make a bit of difference. And that is simply unacceptable. 

I don't know anyone from Newton, Connecticut. I don't know anyone who was directly involved in the situation, but every time I turned on the television I was moved to tears and my heart broke over and over again. I will not pretend to know what it feels like to lose a child. I don't know what it's like to be a parent. But I am a friend, and I know what it feels like to lose someone you love to a horrendous and senseless act of violence. I know what it does to you and the road it takes you down over and over again, and on December 14th, I was reminded of that place. I was reminded of the destination I ended up after I lost Shelley and I remember just sitting there and saying, "I don't know what to do." And it took me months to figure out there there wasn't anything I really could do except keep breathing while I still had breath. 

How do you convince a 7 year old that they are safe at school after they just saw their classmates shot and killed? Children all over America lost a little bit of that magical spark of innocence as the news of this tragedy spent and parents all over America were horrified by the fact that their kids might not really be safe anywhere. The question I've heard over and over on the news is, "How do we show the kids that they're safe? How do we make them feel safe?" 

The long and short of it is...you can't. Not without lying to them. You can't tell a 7 year old, "Well honey, I can't tell you that you'll be safe. I can't tell you that you can go see a movie without getting shot. I can't tell you that you can go to your elementary school and nothing bad will happen. I can't say that someday you'll go to college and no one will open fire in your classroom. I can't guarantee you that someday, someone won't break into your apartment and kill you in your sleep." No, you can't tell a 7 year old that. You have to make them feel comfortable, convince them that everything will be alright. These harsh realities are burdens that us adults should bear alone. Should being the operative word here.  

Things like this shouldn't happen. They just shouldn't and it pisses me off that they do. But the stone cold truth is that it does happen and it will continue to happen no matter how many precautions we take. Go ahead and take away the guns. People will find other ways to kill if they want. Tighten security at the schools. People will find other places to kill if they want. We live in a fallen world and evil isn't something that we can shut our eyes to and pretend it isn't there. The killing of 27 women and children and the death of a possibly deranged and broken  20 year old is proof of this. It would be easy to sit here with righteous anger and wish that young and broken man to burn in hell for the horrendous thing that he did...but wouldn't that just make us part of the problem? 

One of the victims was named Emilie Parker. She was a beautiful little blue eyed six year old girl with her whole life ahead of her. Her father spoke to the media to honor his little girl and tell the world how much this baby was loved and loved in return. He then said something I will never, ever forget. He expressed his condolences to the family of the shooter, understanding that they were going through a nightmare as well. He said that he wasn't angry. Of all people, this man had every right to curse the very name of the gunman and has every reason to hate him for eternity. But Robbie Parker gets it. 

The shooters reasons don't matter. They truly don't, I agree with that. I don't care why he did what he did, I just know that he did it. I don't know anything about this guy. I don't know if he was picked on as a kid and felt like nobody loved him, or if he was abused. I don't know if he was seriously ill and his family and friends failed to encourage him to seek help. I have no idea what the circumstances of this kids life was. The only thing I know is that guy must have been filled with a kind of hate that is absolutely unimaginable to me. I cannot fathom killing my own mother, going to an elementary school and killing 20 babies and 6 women, and then turning the gun on myself. I'm not the type to jump on the "demon possessed" bandwagon...but...I fully believe this kid fought a spiritual battle and lost.

I don't think stricter gun laws are going to keep me safe. It couldn't hurt, but I'm being realistic. I also don't think stricter laws about how to handle the mentally ill is going to make me any safer either. Also couldn't hurt, but seriously. I think there is only one thing that we as a society and a nation can do that will make any dent on keep tragedies like this from happening again: change ourselves. 

Where there is God, there is hope. I know when things like this happen, it seems like we live in a time where depravity reigns king, but that's just the devil jabbering in your eye and dancing before your eyes. This was not of God. God is the abundance of joy. He is everything good. And He is my King. So maybe instead of just talking about Jesus, it's time to start acting like Him. Sure, we're human and we're flawed, but at the heart of us I still believe that we can be creatures of great beauty. God didn't put me on earth to be meek and to turn my back on my fellow man. He didn't put me here to let myself be filled with hate and be desensitized. God gave us, as His people, the ability to change. 

And it starts one person at a time. I've held in a lot of hurt and anger over the past three years. Not hating someone who took away someone you love is easier said than done, take it from someone who knows. But since what happened on Friday, I've found myself praying for the man who took Shelley away for the first time. I pray that he finds God and that God opens his eyes and lets him understand what he did. I hope he'll find the strength to be a man and admit what he did and possibly give us some answers. And finally, I pray that somehow, some way, God will help me forgive him because I need to. Forgiveness isn't for him, it's for me. It's to take a burden off my heart, not his. He will gain nothing by my forgiveness. He'll still be sitting in his cell remembering what he did, hopefully for the rest of his life. But I can't be apart of the change I want to see in the world if I am unwilling to take that step myself.

All in all, I don't really have any answers. Sometimes I still think about Shelley, and I still say, "I don't know what to do." I don't have any words that is going to make anyone feel safe. But I can give you this piece of advice: don't worry so much about the fact that you aren't safe, and don't be afraid. Fear isn't going to do you any good and you can't wear it like a bulletproof vest. Death is the great neutral party and the great equalizer. You can't hide from it, so there isn't any use in being afraid that it might steal you away in the night. But what you can do is live your life in a way that when your time does come around, you can look back and say, "Yeah, I can live with that." Teach your children to love, not hate. Be up-lifters, not bullies. And as they grow and start to realize that safety is a myth, tell them that there are worse things in life than not being safe. There are worst things than dying. Why spend your whole life living in fear and being a stain on the world when you could help paint a mural that proves that humanity isn't completely hopeless? I know the world seems like a scary place, but don't let yourselves be blinded to the wonders of it all. To the wonders of life. 

I'm only 24 and I'm not exactly anyone special. I am flawed and fully faulted, but I can at least say to some degree of surety that I am not a blight on humanity. I refuse to be a part of the problem, so I have no choice but to be a part of the cure. Please, be a beacon of light in a world that seems a little darker now. Instead of wearing armor made of hatred and fear, wear armor of hope and faith. This is how you save lives. This is how you make the world a safer and better place. Help the children of this world understand what "This Little Light of Mine," is really about.

Maybe there is an answer. A very simple yet incredibly far reaching answer. Love. 

Alison

An Explanation I Don't Owe: A Birthday Blog

In about twenty minuets, I will have seen the 15th of November for the 24th time. I usually write about the ways my life has changed over the past year, how I feel about said changes, and maybe even throw in a few life lessons. But this year there is just too much to say.

I've noticed that as I get older, life changes all the quicker. It's a daily thing, an hourly thing, and I have given up on keeping up. Time has a way of going on whether or not you're ready and that's something I've had to come to terms with. It seems like I climb one mountain just to be met with another. They say God gives us trials to make us stronger. I guess He wants me to be a super hero.

One of my biggest changes of this year happened in the past two weeks, and I really don't want to talk about it. It isn't one of those changes I can just sit here and impart some random bit of wisdom from and move on. I have to explain why this change had to happen. It's an explanation I don't owe anyone, not really, but I'm going to give it anyway. No, I don't want to talk about it...but I need to. And more often than not, what we need and what we want are two separate deals.

Two years ago, I thought by the time I was 24 I'd be married to the person I wanted so badly to be the love of my life. I was so happy to be engaged to someone I thought was absolutely perfect for me. I thought everything was going to be so different and it killed me to watch it all fall apart so slowly that I saw it coming from a mile away. I fought it, I fought it so hard because I wanted it so bad. But what we need and what we want...well, you know the drill.

In the beginning, it was as easy as breathing. I was hurting so badly from the loss of my daddy and my relationship before him coming to an end. I felt like I was losing so much and when he came along, I gained an entire new life. It felt like everything was perfect for the first little while, or at least I wanted it so much that I ignored the warning signs. I went against my instincts, knowing that we were too young and it was all too fast. Too much. Too everything.

After a while we just stayed together because we felt like we'd be more miserable being apart. I can't speak for him, but it was slowly killing me inside. We weren't kind to each other, we both split the blame right down the middle. The day I'd finally had enough, the moment I handed him his ring back was one of the hardest things that I've ever had to do. But we deserved better.

Eat. Pray. Love. is one of my favorite books and one of my favorite movies. There is a point in the memoir/movie when Liz realizes that her relationship is over and it's all thanks to a visit to Rome. She went to the Augustiam. It's a scene that talks about ruin, brokenness, and it's a scene that I always relate to. I have always felt like something is broken inside me, something I've never been able to fix no matter how hard I've tried. I've always thought it was such a bad thing, but as I've gotten older I've come to think as Liz does, that ruin is a gift. It is the road to transformation. I am constantly changing and moving and growing and probably becoming a little more broken and a little closer to fixed with every day I draw breath.

"Both of us deserve better than to stay together because we're afraid we'll be destroyed if we don't."

People change, and sometimes we change apart instead of change together. I transformed in different ways than he did and we just couldn't be together anymore. We deserved better than the hurt we were feeling. As much as we split the blame, I don't even think it was either of our faults. Sometimes there is no one to blame, things just happen. It wasn't the we fell out of love. Our love didn't have the right kind of foundation to begin with. By the end we just stopped talking and stopped listening and stopped caring. And I just couldn't do it anymore.

I'm 24 years old now. Or at least I will be at 6:52 this evening. I'm old enough to know when to let go. It didn't kill me, it didn't break me. It was just another moment of change that I've had to live through. But I know in the very depths of my soul that we made the right choices for us.

I miss him. I will miss him for the rest of my life. And even if he decides that he cant be my friend, I will always be his. I will always want the very best for him. I hope someday he finds someone who will love him so much better than I ever could. I hope he finds someone who stirs his soul the way I feel like he deserves. It's then he'll realize she makes him feel like I never could.

My explanation was kind of drawn out, but it really is very simple: I believe in a love that most people believe only exist in novels or movies. I believe that someday I will find love, and it will be the kind of thing that people write about. I believe in it and I deserve it. And I wont settle for less than that. I wont settle for anything less than a love that can overcome even death. God has shown me how to believe in something like that, even if it is risky.

Not exactly the usual Happy Birthday blog, but eh, I'm in a melancholy mood.

Have a great day everyone, and do me a favor? Believe.

Alison

In This Town of Halloween

Since I have a few minutes before I have to leave for work, I've decided to bless all you readers (the whole one of you, love you Grady!) with my incredibly hilarious story about how I eneded my Halloween night by filling out a witness statement. Grady, you were there, so you know the story, but maybe (just maybe) someone else will actually read this and find it as entertaining as I did the night that it happened. And yes, I realize I remember an incredible amount of detail from this event, but I was paying very close attention because, frankly, I didn't want to go to jail. Alright, here goes!

So after the candy was gone and Grady and I arrived back at my house after going on a little jaunt, we watched Hocus Pocus (best. movie. ever!) with Jeremy and Justin. Justin left soon after the movie was over and we three that were left quickly became bored and unhappy at the fact that it was 10 O'clock on Halloween night and we were inside watching the Science Fiction channel. So we did what any other young people in their twenties would do; we went walking.

As soon as we stepped off my property, we notice this insanely large group of teenagers in the middle of the road. When they saw us, they scattered. This was the first sign that they were up to a little Halloween mischief. We three quickly realized we'd probably made a mistake in going walking on Halloween night seeing as all the delinquents were probably out egging houses and we kind of looked like likely suspects. I mean, Jeremy and I were wearing large hooded sweatshirts and Grady was in my Panda hat. We looked like delinquents.

We were headed toward Jeremy's house when I realized we were walking with a small group of kids. Grady and Jeremy both had the same reaction to the situation we found ourselves in; head down, walk faster, get out of the situation. Me being who I am had a different reaction; get a good look at the kids, talk as much as possible, and remember details.

This being said, I need to make a side note. I generally don't like narks. My parents always told me that there was nothing worse than  rat. I dunno if they were trying to prepare me for a possible future in organized crime or what, but yeah, in my home you did not rat out your fellow man. I totally understood and agreed with this point of view and would not have ratted out these kids under any circumstances, except one of these kids made a fatal mistake. Wanna know what it was? Oh I'll tell ya.

So the kid we were walking next to was about Jeremy's height, Hispanic, and had on glasses and a ball cap. He told me that he was eighteen and from the next town over. He inquired about my age and I told him I was just a few weeks shy of 24 years old. This is when the fatal mistake was made. This little moron had the nerve to look at me and say, "You're old as f***!"

O_o

Yep. He went there. Cuss word and all. What did I do, you ask? Well my first instinct was the punch the kid in the baby maker. Or, you know, throw him into someones back yard that housed a pit bull or something. But I kept my cool. I had a feeling my chance for revenge would come. And it did, in the form of a short kid in an orange hoodie and dark Justin Bieber hair.

"I'm gonna egg this house!" yelled Bieber.

"Don't you EFFING dare!" I yelled back, stopping in the middle of the road and pointing at the kid. "We three are over the age of eighteen and will get into more trouble than you are worth! Throw that egg and you WILL rue the day!"  I volleyed a few more threats his way and that's when Jeremy, Grady, and I decided to walk a little faster. The idiot was going to throw an egg at a house that's lights were on!!!!!! Why!!!!!! They're awake, eff tard!

When we got to the stop sign, that's when we heard it. CRACK! "Lets power walk!" I said, and we were gone. As Grady and I stood in Jeremy's yard waiting for him to get done inside, I watched these kids walk toward the town park. I've got pretty great eyesight (better than perfect woot!) so I could see them get into a dark car and turn it on. Jeremy came outside and we headed in the opposite direction.

"When this car drives by, lets get the plates. It's those dumbass kids. I have a feeling we're going to need this information." I thought this because while Jeremy was inside, we'd seen a cop driving around spotlighting. Someone had called the cops on these kids. Great. You bet your bottom dollar that when that car drove by, we got the first three digits of the plate.

At that point, we probably should had just given up and gone home. I mean, we KNEW the cops were gonna hassle us. But I think at that point we were so bored, we kind of welcomed it. At least I did. I was out for blood. Well, revenge at least. That a-hole called me old.

No sooner did we step onto my street did we see the mysterious car drive past us again. Behind them was a police cruiser. Instead of following the car, however, the cop put on his lights and pulled over next to us. When he opened the door to shine a large flashlight in our eyes, I pointed down the street and yelled, "They went that way!" Jeremy and Grady told me to shut up, that I sounded guilty, but I didn't want them to get away! Argh, the frustration!

"What are you guys doing?" asked Officer Buzz Cut

"Walking. Cause we're bored," I replied.

"How old are you three?"

"23, 23, 21." I noticed by this time that I was the only one talking.

"Oh!" The Officer suddenly became much nicer. "Have ya'll seen any kids running around?"

"YES!" And I quickly explained our story. I told him the break lights in the distance were the snot nosed kids who were doing the throwing of the egg, gave him the plate number, and watched him hop in his car and take off into the night.

We continued walking and not long after that, we saw lights in the distance. The cop had cauht the little buggers! We walked on in glee, but when we made it to the high school, we were once again stopped by Officer Buzz Cut. He asked us a series of questions about what we saw in which we all quickly figured out that I'd gathered more detail than my comrads. He then asked us to fill out a witness statement. We all reluctantly agreed. I wasn't too thrilled about it being on record that I was narking, but my lust for revenge meant more to me than my pride as a past fellow delinquent.

And so our night ended with us sitting in the front yard waiting for the Officer to come back around and pick up our witness statements. We talked about the evening, pondered on the fate of the eggers, and I was satisfied by the score I'd settled.

I learned three things this recent All Hallows Eve: 1. Hocus Pocus is much funnier as an adult and never gets old. 2. You know you're too old for Halloween romping when you start getting kids in trouble for making mischief. and 3. I really don't like to be called old.

Hope this made you giggle a little. Cheerio!

Alison

For the Love of Fiction

Yesterday I read the latest chapter of Tite Kubo's manga Bleach, and one of my favorite characters has died. I sat here staring at the screen with tears flowing down my face, feeling as if I'd been punched in the gut, as if I'd lost a friend. Over the years I have shed tears for many a character. When someone is as passionate about the world of fiction and form the strong bonds that I do with fictional characters, you not only emphasize and feel for them as they go through the various circumstances that us writers put them through, but you also feel their absence when/if they meet their doom. I cry for them when they cry. I bleed for them when they bleed. But I truly feel as if I have lost someone important in my life if I have to say goodbye.

I wasn't the most popular kid when I was in school. I didn't really find my stride in life until I got to college and found like-minded people. Or at least people who thought my nerdiness was endearing. I had very few friends who respected me for being different. In fact, I think I had a total of, like, 4 friends who stuck  by me even though I was a total dork. And only two of those shared my dorkiness.

I digress.

So, seeing as I wasn't exactly popular, I hated going to school. I was incredibly smart (which doesn't get you any popularity points either, unless the dumb jocks ask to cheat off you) so I enjoyed the learning aspect of things, but I got picked on pretty mercilessly in the early days. By the time I was 16 the bullying stopped because I refused to be bullied. I was a nerd with a temper.

Anyway, the world of fiction allowed me an escape. I'd been reading since I was 3, but it didn't truly become my refuge until I was probably 11. That's when I discovered the wonderful world of Harry Potter and fell in love with my first character. For the next seven years, not only did my love for all things fiction grow to include not only books but movies, anime, manga, video games, anything really, but my love for Harry Potter only grew. I became attached to the characters. They became my friends, my escape from a world where I was rarely understood. And then, when I was 18 years old, I lost the character that had not only been my favorite HP character since I was 11, but was also my favorite character in existence and still is to this day. I wept for an hour over the death of Severus Snape. I felt silly because I knew he wasn't real, but then another wise character by the name of Albus Dumbledore pointed out something to Harry that hit home with me.

"Of course it is happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?" Dumbledore's wise words explained so much for me. Yes, the worlds that I dove into were not happening in my immediate reality. I am not physically at Hogwarts, nor in Narnia, the Soul Society, or in some galaxy far far away. I can't Time-walk, date vampires, or go to Camp Half-blood. But that doesn't make these places any less real in my mind or in my heart.

The worlds I find myself in when I read or watch movies or play games are a shelter for me, a sanctuary. When this reality becomes too much, or too little, I can go find my place somewhere else. Will I ever physically go there? No. But that doesn't make the feelings I feel or the people (YES PEOPLE!) I meet any less real to me. So if you see me crying or hear me talking about being sad over a character I have grown to truly love and care for dying, don't insult me or their memories by saying that I shouldn't get so upset over something that isn't real. Because, to be honest, a lot of these characters are more real to me than most of you are.

And so this shall be a tribute to the characters who I have loved and lost and feel like I owe a thank you to. Sometimes it's the realm of fiction that has the greatest impact, and these characters have helped me through some of the greatest pain that this reality has handed to me. I don't care if you don't understand or you don't like it. All that shows me is that you don't understand me. Just remember, just because it's happening in a place you cannot physically see doesn't mean you have the right to negate it's excistance.
 

You will be missed, Kuchiki Byakuya Taicho

Looking for Alaska: the Labyrinth of Suffering

I think it's becoming a new trend for me to start doing book reviews. Of course this seemed like a natural course of action considering I'm a walking library, but I realized I have an inability to write a proper one. I've never been one who gets caught up in things like symbolism, character development, plot, etc., Don't get me wrong! As someone who has a BA in English, I can attest to you, dear reader, that all of those things and more are extremely important when writing a novel. They are due their respect. But I don't think I can write a blog about them. Can I spot them, disect them, understand them, and appreciate them? Yes. But a novel is about so much more than the mechanics.

An old friend of mine told me that I should start my own version of Sparknotes. It took me a little while to realize this old friend is a freaking genius! My book reviews will have very little to do with mechanics and all about how a certain novel made me feel. A well written story should be able to invoke several emotions simultaneously and that is what is important to me. How did this novel make me feel while I was reading, and did it stay with me long after the last page was turned? And so, welcome to AliNotes! Be prepared to read my probably useless ramblings about the adventures that a good story can take us on.

I read Looking for Alaska by John Green almost as soon as I finished The Fault in Our Stars. I've since read another book by Green called Paper Towns, which I loved as well, though not as much as the aforementioned.  I have fallen in love with Green's writing style and immature locker room humor. I have always been a bit boyish and so I guess inappropriate jokes about body parts and crazy pranks are right up my alley. What I like the most about Green is that (in my opinion) he's an incredibly deep thinker and makes you contemplate the big questions about life, death, love, hate, and everything in-between without even realizing that you're doing it. His thoughtful and downright philosophical musings are so well woven into the paragraphs and pages that you don't catch a glimpse of them until suddenly, he hits a little close to home.

Looking for Alaska dealt with a group of teenagers away at boarding school in butthole Alabama. The three that the story focuses on is our narrator Pudge, his roommate The Colonel, and, of course, Alaska. Alaska is an impuslive, chain smoking troublemaker with deep wounds that she can never seem to heal. She is the glue that seems to keep the group together, and Pudge believes himself very much in love even though she has a boyfriend she allegedly loves very much. I mean, he is the only guy she's never cheated on. Oh, that is until a drunken make out session with Pudge. Anyway, the night of the crazy make out, in which Alaska promises to continue when they're sober, Alaska suddenly freaks out and asks the boys to help her get off campus. They distract the principal, Alaska gets in her car, and is killed in an accident. The rest of the novel is about Pudge and his friends in search of answers to what happened. What had upset Alaska so much before she drove away? Had she really been so drunk that she didn't see the cop car (lights and all) in the middle of the road? Was it suicide? The cop said she didn't even swerve.

To me, LFA is about a young person coming to terms with unanswerable questions, broken promises, and the fact that actions have consequences.

Death is one of the greatest mysteries that we humans have been trying to uncover for centuries. In LFA, Pudge is obsessed with peoples last words. He later goes on a quest trying to understand the death of his friend. It took me back to when death first touched my life and opened my eyes to the fact that I'm not ten feet tall and bullet proof, and those I love aren't always going to be by my side. We watch Pudge and The Colonel struggle with trying to understand why Alaska died. How could their healthy, beautiful friend be there one minute and suddenly gone the next. I've had death touch me in significant ways and I've wrestled with those same questions. I've also wrestled with Alaska's struggle to make it out of what she refers to as the "labyrinth of suffering." I was taken back to being a kid and seeing the world for what it was for the first time. I remember that pain, the fear of uncertainty. I remember it the moment that it dawned on me that I would definitely die someday and I'd probably never see it coming. That's what this novel is about.

Alaska's answer to the question of how to escape the labyrinth of was simple. "Hard and fast," she wrote in the margin of her favorite book. At the end of the novel, honoring Alaska's memory, Pudge's Religion teacher poses this question to them. I think it only appropriate that I answer this question for myself.

"How will you---you personally---ever get out of this labyrinth of suffering? Now that you've wrestled with three major religious traditions, apply your newly enlightened mind to Alaska's question."  

The answer is actually quite simple: I wont.

It isn't a bad thing. It's just a reality we all have to face. I believe a famous mere-cat once told us all that sometimes bad things happen and there isn't anything that you can do about it. At some point in your life, someone will betray you. Someone will break your heart, people will die, and you will make choices that come with great consequences that you have to learn to live with. When it comes to suffering, you really have two choices: let it break you, or make you. I've chosen the latter .

It's no secret that I've seen and felt my fair share of suffering. I've seen death with my own two eyes, had my heart broken more times then you would believe humanly possible, and I've screwed up in some monstrous ways. I've screamed myself hoarse and cried so much I've thrown up. Sometimes I go through times where I wonder if agony and pain is the only thing I remember how to feel. I have days where the losses I've felt press on me harder than other days and I don't even know if I'll have to strength to crawl out of bed and simply go on. But I do.

Every day I wake up knowing there are people I've lost that I'll never get back, whether that be to death or circumstance, and I have to accept that fact every time I am greeted by a new day. I have to make a decision every morning to get up, put my pants on, and live. There are scars on my heart with peoples names etched into them that will never ever fade. I can feel the empty spaces in my house where my dad should be. When I want to tell Shelley something or show her something, she isn't there for me to tell and show.

Suffering is a part of life. There isn't a way to escape it. You just have to let it bleed, because at the end of the day, it's worth it. Maybe there are people out there who truly live charmed lives and never know anything other than utter contentment. If so, I actually feel sorry for them because they will never learn to appreciate the great things about life that I have.

 Happiness is truly a fickle and fleeting emotion. You cant capture it in a jar like a lightning bug and watch the light show. Happiness comes and goes, just like suffering, just like pain. But it's worth it. Only when you have truly suffered can you be truly grateful for even just one moment of pure and unadulterated joy. I've felt that. At the end of the day, those brief spells of happiness have made all the pain worth it. I don't want out of the labyrinth if I lost the ability to drop to my knees and say thank you for even just one moment of something better.

 It doesn't matter how it ended, it only matters that it happened. I have wished on stars and seen those wishes come to fruition. I have had a first kiss that will stay with me for the rest of my life. It doesn't matter how badly it ended or how my heart bled. Nothing can take the memories away from me. They're mine and no amount of sadness I felt afterward can taint the happiness I felt in those moments. No one and nothing can take that away from me. That moments may have had a heavy price attached, but I'd pay them every time. I wouldn't take back not one second, even if I'd known how it would have turned out later. I wouldn't have loved or fought or smiled any less.

Think back to a moment in time where you were happy. I don't mean "I got chocolate cake!" happy. I mean the kind where you turn your face to the star clad sky and you are so overcome with emotion that you can barely choke out a whispered thanks. I remember every single one of those moments. I remember thinking, "so this is what it feels like. This is passion. This is joy. This is love." It wont last forever. Nothing does. But neither will pain. Hold on to the joy and let go of the rest, because there isn't anything you can do to change it. And if it made you that happy at the time, you shouldn't. You can't really hate someone or something that once caused you so much joy, even if they did deal you a heavy wound. Send them light and love every time you think of them. Be grateful to them. They taught you how to survive. They showed you how to smile.
They helped you learn how to love.


I will never escape the labyrinth of suffering for inside the labyrinth is "the great perhaps." Inside of suffering is all the possibilities that life has to offer me. Where there is pain, there is love. Where there is love, there is hope. And where there is hope, there is the possibility of a life that not even death can claim.

Happiness-The Fray

The Fault in Our Stars

At 3 O'clock yesterday morning, I finished the second book of the All Souls Trilogy. This series is opening my eyes in many splendid ways, but that is not what this blog post is about. As soon as I sat down Shadow of Night (which I own in book form) I picked up my kindle and started a book that I finished some 4 hours later, tears coursing down my face, and with new ponderings about life and death zooming around in my head. I laid on my back in my messy bed, watched the sun peek through my blinds, and stared at the glow in the dark stars I still have stuck on my ceiling (remnants of my 16 year old self) with the last words of said novel bouncing around in my head. "I do, Augustus. I do." 

By the way, beware, for ahead there be the beast called Spoiler. 

The Fault in Our Stars by John Green is a novel that, to the unobservant, seems to be about kids who are dying (or being blinded because) of cancer. As most who read this blog know (okay, lets face it, only, like, one person reads this blog) my father died two years ago of said disease, so I've had some up-close and personal experience with the process of dying. But as I read the book, I realized this book had very little to do with death and mostly to do with life and living. 

Dying is a messy business. I have read the sentence, "He/She died peacefully in their home," more times than I have cared to, and when I read it in my own father's obituary, I have never read a more blatant lie in my entire twenty-four (nearly) years of life. I was there when Dad took his last breath in this world and let me tell you, there was nothing peaceful about it. Perhaps that isn't very comforting for the people who loved him. But, well, I was his kid, so kick rocks. I still selfishly stand by the fact that if anyone needed comforting in that moment, it was me, but I was robbed of that because I had a front row seat. My dad didn't go out kicking and screaming because he was in a coma, not because he was peacefully accepting death. 

Cancer eats you from the inside out. I appreciate John Green more than I can express because he gave us an honest portrayal of what it is like to die of cancer. Cancer isn't pretty, fun, peaceful, or exclusive. This story is narrated by a 16 year old girl named Hazel whose diagnosis came three months after she got her first period. "Like: Congratulations! You're a woman. Now die." Hazel frequents a support group in a church where she meets Augustus Waters (our gorgeous one-legged hero) who begins to worm his way into her turmoil filled heart. She'd been content to simply sit at home watch America's Next Top Model and wait for death to finally knock on her door. She wanted to leave as less damage as possible when the inevitable happened and the miracle drug that had saved her would stop working. She didn't exactly have aspirations of having her name written in history books. She simply didn't want to cause anymore damage than was absolutely necessary by her impending doom.

And then enters Augustus Waters. Gus is an incredibly handsome, intelligent, and alive young man. Hazel doesn't want to get too close because she doesn't want to hurt him,  but she's drawn to him regardless. She lets him in, lets him lover her, and most importantly lets herself love him. THIS IS WHERE SPOILERS START. STOP READING IF YOU DON'T WANT TO KNOW!!!!!!

And then he dies.

John Green didn't write a book about dying. Through his character Augustus Waters, he illustrated the point that it isn't in the losing but the living of the life you were given. August and Hazel felt a love for one another that many people twice their age never find. A favorite quote of mine from the book is, "You gave me a forever within the numbered days, and I'm grateful." This brought me back to Sarah Dessen's book The Truth About Forever, which I believe also changed my life for the better. What these two novels have in common is the concept of what "forever" really means. Perhaps my forever will end years from now and yours tomorrow. But the permanence of your situation, dear reader (seriously, the one)  isn't what's important. It the effect you have on someone else and their forever that matters. It's what you do with the life you have, not the way you die.

Death isn't pretty, not in my experience anyway. All of the people who were close to me that have died have done so pretty horribly. Their deaths left scars on me,  but their lives...their lives left me with a beautiful and colorful portrait of a life that had been worth living and lived well. Their death's were sad, tragic, and I miss them, but the fact that they're gone shouldn't be the only thing I think about when I remember them.

I'm not particularly scared of death. I don't remember ever being, to be honest. At an early age, I understood that anything living must once day cease. I've always understood my mortality and the fact that someday I would go into the great Somewhere (Heaven, for me) and the thought doesn't strike me with fear. The dying part doesn't seem very pleasant (from what I've encountered) but I'm more concerned about the middle bit between birth and death.

I've got lots of scars and I've left my fair share as well. I've felt pain (as it demands to be felt, as Augustus says) and I've given as good as I've gotten. Hazel had to learn that no matter what you do, your life and death will effect those around you, whether you successfully shut them out of not. Maybe she wouldn't go down in history, but she would go down in someone's history. As long as you impact even just one person in any kind of way, you will be remembered. Augustus left Hazel with a forever kind of love, even if they were only granted a certain amount of days together.

All of us are going to die and some of us wont get to accomplish what we want to. Some of us will never reach our dreams. Shakespeare said (and John Green made great use of this) "The fault is not in our stars, but in ourselves." What I take away from this is the fact that you can be mad at God, the universe, and your circumstances all day long, but it isn't their fault. Sometimes it isn't anyone's fault, it's just life and you accept it and move on. Easier said than done, but I've done it and so can you.

If I write just one novel that impacts one person the way The Fault in Our Stars impacted me, I will be satisfied. But I accept the fact that I could get hit by a bus tomorrow and my forever would drift away. I might just be one of those people who never get to reach their dreams because death isn't exclusive. But I'm going to die trying. I don't regret my scars. I find them well worth it. I hope I leave a few worthwhile scars behind when it's my turn to go Somewhere. I'll keep living or die trying.

I'm sorry this is so random, long, and disjointed. Perhaps I'll write a more coherent post about all I took away from this splendid novel (when I haven't taken benadryll) but for now you'll have to deal with this.

John Green, on the off chance that you ever read this, I just want to say thank you. Thank you from the bottom of my scarred heart for understanding that when you get cancer, sometimes you piss the bed. Thank you for not over-romanticizing death. Thank you for understanding that cancer is a horrible way to go. Thank you for being a nerdfighter and understanding Harry Potter is the bomb. And most of all, thank you for writing a book about living well opposed to dying well, because I'm not sure if there is such a thing.

Thank you.

Signed, a fellow Green & Nerdfighter.

For some reason, this makes me think of Hazel and Augustus.

Seeing Stars

I feel like I've been sitting in silence for the better part of a year. My last semester of college was a blur of homework and trying to have a good time. Since graduation, life has been a blur of fear and uncertainty and I guess I didn't know what to say about any of it. I still don't, to be honest, but I do have something to say finally, so here it goes.

Tuesday is trash day. It's one of the few constants in my ever changing life. Today when I got off of work I walked to the front to bring the trashcan to the backyard. While I was walking from my car to the front yard, I inhaled the crisp cool air and looked over at my front yard and I was taken back to a different time and place . Scent is one of our main memory sensors. A certain scent can trigger a dozen or more memories all at once, and that's what happened to me today. 

All of the sudden I could smell summer's retreat and the steady creep of fall. The kiss of a breeze whispered a promise of cooler weather and suddenly, I was 16 again. It was a Friday night and the whole town was over at the school watching the Gladiators battle it out with the opposing team. I was laughing and walking around with my best friends without a care in the world. Then we'd walk to my house and stay up all night outside when we weren't supposed to, never getting caught but always liking the thrill of knowing we might. Then the memory changes and I'm laying down in my front yard looking at the stars, talking on the phone to that special someone and relishing in the fact that somehow, without me noticing, he'd become my best friend. 

And then I blink and I'm in college. I'm out in my friends pasture with a bonfire blazing in front of us. I no longer go to football games or talk to that person on the phone. I have a whole new set of friends and a  new certain someone. We're laughing and dancing to my iPod and some of them are a little tipsy. I feel safe for the first time in along time. The Crew makes me feel wanted and supported and capable. They give me strength. 

And now here I am without the Crew, school, football games, or wishing on stars with the boy I liked half my life. Everything is different and I've let go of those parts of my life that I know I can't get back. Some parts I don't want back. But even though it's over, those memories are as much a part of me as the color of my eyes and the sound of my voice. That one breeze on some random Tuesday made me trace the strands that form the tapestry of my life and briefly see how each of these events have somehow become part of my identity. Without each of those memories, each of those strands, I wouldn't be who I am at this moment. 

Lately I feel like I'm dangling from one of those strands. I have no direction and no idea what I am going to do with myself in the future. I used to think that I'd cut all of the ties that bound me to a past so out of my reach, but I can't. I will never be able to be rid of it simply because the past helped form the whole picture. Without those events, without that life, I'd be a blank or incomplete canvas. I simply need to learn how to add to the painting. I need to mix new colors. 

Those snapshots or strands of string all helped build the home I now find myself a residence. I feel the future knocking on my door and I don't know what will be on the other side of the door when I finally figure out how to open it. But when I look back on all the places I've been and things that I've gone through, I know I'll  be okay eventually. 

I can't go back to those Friday nights and long phone calls. I don't want to. But one thing that hasn't changed since I was 16 years old is my belief that I am meant for something more. I'm not bound by the anger and hurt from my past. I choose to look at the good times as well as bad and appreciate them for what they were. 

Because of you from my past, I still go stand in my yard from time to time to see the stars. Thank you. Without you, I wouldn't understand the power and wonder of the nighttime sky. I wouldn't still be wishing on stars.

Seeing Stars