Finals shminals

No earth shattering lesson today (har har). Just a high five to everyone suffering through finals week like yours truly. I sincerely hope you have more motivation than I do.

Two finals to go. I got this!

P.S. Really funny conversation with Marcela today.

Marcela (with a big smile on her face): Sometimes when Mommy goes to work I feel like she doesn't love me anymore.

Me: You don't really mean that, do you?

Marcela: Yeah huh.

Me: Are you sure?

Marcela: Well I have to say that to get attention.

For a 4-year old, she really knows how to work it. I fear for her parents during her teenage years.

A lesson in gratefulness

I've been rifling through my old writing lately, trying to get my creative wheels moving and gear up for the manuscript(s) I need to pump out this summer, and I came across something I wrote my junior year of high school. Let me preface it by saying the assignment was a tragedy, but we weren't allowed to explicitly say what it was. I chose my grandmother's recent Alzheimer's diagnosis. Here's a little (depressing) excerpt ... we'll get to the upbeat part in a bit:

"I am my grandmother's pride and joy, her baby grand. I cry as I realize that soon she won't even remember my name. The name she gushed to anyone and everyone who would listen. I weep as it soaks in--soon she will not recognize my face. The same cheeks she squeezed and the forehead she kissed good night. I will cling to the memories as she forgets. She will forget every moment until I am nothing. She will forget every moment until she is nothing. She will lose me, and I will lose her, twice over."

Like I said, I wrote that my junior year of high school. I'm now wrapping up my junior year of college... and she still remembers me. I look different everyday -- I get triple IDed every time I go out because I don't resemble my license or my student ID, and half the time my own friends don't even recognize me when they pass me on campus -- but I can stroll into her place unannounced after being gone for months, and she knows me. She may not remember quite how much she loved me, but she still loves me. And she may ask me how school is 15 times in one sitting, but at least she remembers where I am.

I'm not naive. I know the bad times are still going to come eventually. But they're not here yet, and I am so lucky to have had these four unexpectedly good years -- and who knows how many more. I'm so grateful for that.

Happy Mother's Day to all the moms out there... and especially to my amazing mother and grandmother, without whom I would not have the honor to walk this earth.

A lesson in being unapologetic

I recently came across the blog of The Single Woman, a real life Carrie Bradshaw. While I do enjoy the daily dose of girl power, I think I can scrounge that up myself. That being said, I will unabashedly admit that one of her (somewhat cheesy) quotes resounded with me:

"You are never more captivating than when you are wildly, beautifully, unapologetically YOU."

It was the unapologetically that got me. I am constantly apologizing for myself. For my mood swings and my occasionally overwhelming emotions and my temper. For my opinions and my habit of speaking my mind, even when what I have to say isn't very nice. For calling up my friends just to complain for a solid 15 minutes. For changing my mind twenty times a day or canceling plans because I just really need to stay home in my pajamas and veg out for the night. For stringing someone along, or shutting them out. For putting too much on someone. For keeping secrets, for spilling them.

I think you get the idea.

The point is, while a sincere apology is of course necessary in some instances, I'm going to try to curb the constant apologizing for being me. Yes, I am kind of a head case, and I'm practically impossible to put up with at times -- but aren't we all? Don't apologize for being you. Those who mind don't matter, and those who matter don't mind.

(Thank you, Dr. Seuss, for still teaching me invaluable lessons even in my adulthood.)

A lesson in listening

I was 11 years old when the Twin Towers were attacked. I watched it at school and knew somehow that the world would never quite be the same. Still, months later, I had grown tired of all the coverage and couldn't help wondering when the media would move on. When we would move on. But we never really did, did we?

This war on terrorism is different than WWII or Vietnam, but it's still a war that my generation has grown up in. So I wasn't surprised when there was a street riot in Greektown when news came that bin Laden had been killed. I stayed holed up in the student center finishing a project while 3,000 students shot off fireworks and chanted "U-S-A!" all night long.

I still feel for families who lost loved ones on 9/11. For anyone who lost a loved one at bin Laden's hands, for that matter. I just don't have it in me to celebrate someone being killed. Relief, maybe, that he can't hurt anyone else... but you won't find me in any of the photos on CNN from Mizzou's riots. I'm a little embarrassed that we made the top 10 celebrations, to be honest.

I wasn't going to write this post. I've been trying to keep my mouth shut about the whole situation. It's touchy. It's something everyone and their dog has an opinion about, and everyone is certain that they're right. So I took it upon myself to bite my tongue and listen to everyone else, take a lesson in respecting opinions that aren't like mine. I think we could all take a lesson in that.

This is the most I will say on the matter, but I'll sum this post up with words from an incredibly wise soul:

"Returning hate for hate only multiplies hate, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that."

-Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.