Chuck Norris Jokes: Round 1

When Chuck Norris works out he sweats fortitude.

Chuck Norris's heart beats once a week.

Chuck Norris's dog is trained to pick up his own poop because Chuck Norris will not take shit from anyone.

If Chuck Norris had a dollar and you had a dollar Chuck Norris would kick your ass and take your dollar.

Chuck Norris is considered a prime number in certain schools in Ontario.

Chuck Norris once inhaled a seagull.

Chuck Norris's poop is used as currency in third world countries.

Chuck Norris makes onions cry.

Chuck Norris eats coal and shits diamons.

Ever see the Grand Canyon? Chuck Norris has nothing to do with it, he just went there once on a family vacation.

At least part of my purpose in writing this blog is to discover parts of myself and hope that some of my discoveries and the insight I gain from them might help or inspire others. So, why Chuck Norris jokes? Because they are immature, crude, overused, tacky, but most of all, because when I really needed to smile, I opened my friend's book of Chuck Norris jokes and laughed until I cried. Take a break from stressful and ridiculous APUSH essays and from reading The Great Gatsby, and from calctastic integrals and do something that makes you truly smile from the inside out. Embrace it. Embrace yourself. Even the parts that somehow appreciate the really lame humor of Chuck Norris jokes.

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From a while ago...

Why is it that any time I try to write the words just won't come out?

I'm at a really great place in my life. So many things are changing, and I'm changing with them, but I'm so happy. I have never been this happy in my whole life. I am beginning to love myself, which is no small task. Yes, things have been tough, but I've learned to rise from my tears and cuts of self-pity.

My mom and I are going to the Christmas play at my church tonight. I've never been this close with my mom. I actually talk to her. And I'm honest. Sometimes. A lot of the time. Either way, my mom and I have a relationship, which we never had before. Talking to a friend the other day she commented how I start sentences with "I was talking to my mom..." and how she never used to hear me say that. Because I didn't say it. Because I didn't talk to her. It's wonderful to actually feel loved.

Touch someone's life

You know those people you lost contact with but still see around every now and again? How about the guy you see sitting by himself at luch everyday?

Those grey areas the relationships caught in limbo the personyouknowbutnotreallybutstillwave toandsometimestalk or the person whousedtobemyfriendbutIhaven'ttalkedtoherinalongtimeandIdon'tknowifitwouldbeweirdtotalktoheragain are confusing.

Just yesterday I was standing outside the school a woman, I think she's a teacher, walked past me intensely, with her head and eyes locked firmly on the ground. I was tempted to say hello, to tell her to have a good evening. But I didn't. I stood there for sometime thinking about the possibilites of what I could have said to her. I thought about how she might have responded. I thought about what I could have said may have impacted her, even if just a little, or maybe not. I felt cold inside after she walked by. I said a prayer for her asking God to give her a drive home with lots of green lights and a happy evening at home with her family.

I was really disappointed earlier this year when I realized that I conscioulsy avoided talking to people who used to be my best friends. Friends I'd tell my deepest secrets and giggle about boys and inside jokes. Since my realization I've started to smile, to wave in the hallways, to talk, even if it's just to ask the homework. And we've grown to be friends again. Nothing like what we were. Because we've both changed, and it's okay, we're just not as compatible as we once were. But it's nice to know that there are good feelings between us, even if they go no further than our little catch-up chats and smiles in the hallway.

I kid you not, I'm on a first-name basis with several of the custodians at our school. You know who I mean -- the pair of best friends that go around together laughing all the time. They're hilarious. I don't remember how I really got to know them, it was a gradual thing that just sorta happened. I'd see them as I was leaving and I'd smile politely, then I'd wave every so often, I'd ask how they were doing, how their weekend or break went. I still see them both almost every day, greeted with Sharon's familiar "Hey girl heyyyy!" I smile just thinking about it -- she is something else.

I've also started to strike up conversations with people who have lockers near mine. I don't know that I really had a particular reason for doing it other than for its own sake. I wanted to brighten their day, I wanted someone to talk to. I think they appreciate it. I know I like it when people say hi to me. It's a wondeful feeling, to be acknowledged, to be appreciated for simply being somewhere. It's nice. I'm meeting new people and keeping casually in touch with some old. I love seeing how people's eyes light up and smiles brighten their faces. I love seeing people happy because inside I feel happy too.

So I say hi. No matter how unlikely, I can always hope that somehow in someway I've made some difference, even if it was only a smiling face in the hall or a friendly hello at their locker, because I know, that no matter to what degree, they've made a difference in mine in one way or another.

I encourage you to think about your actions and your words because they truly are so much more powerful than we realize. I encourage you to be bold and reach out. I encourage you to touch someone else's life. Because wondering what could have been is worthless.

From a mole hill to a mountain

I haven't liked someone seriously in a long time. Now I remember why. I really like him, but so do other people. Grrr. Why does this have to be so frustrating? It doesn't, actually, now that I think about it. I'm making a mountain out of a mole hill. It's just hard to make myself emotionally vulnerable. It's scary. Probably why I haven't liked someone in so long. It's easier to just not like anyone in the first place. That's safe. That way I can't get hurt. Now I'm just being pessimistic and dramatic. I'm going to stop talking before I dig this decent-sized hole any deeper.

So it goes

Someone asked me recently to name something I dislike about myself mentally.
I said I disliked my lack of self confidence.
Which is true. I'm definatley lacking, and I definatley wish I weren't.

I feel like I constantly need someone to validate or confirm things for me, about me. I feel like I need compliments, but at the same time can't bring myself to believe them. The easiest, or at least, most tangible way to explain it would be photography. I take pictures, and I like them. I like them because I do, and all is well. But when I show them to others, it's like I'm making a part of me vulnerable to them. It seeems stupid, but I take things personally. If someone compliments one of my pictures, I smile. I feel accomplished. I feel valuable. Not just my picture, but me. It's almost like I consider the things I do (like photography) an extension of myself. Which, in a sense, they are. But when someone says something negative, or even if they don't say anything at all, I connect it to myself. I feel like a failure. I feel like somehow my pictures aren't good enough. And if my pictures aren't good enough, neither am I.

And my blog. I compare it to everyone else's. I feel like mine's stupid, boring, redundant, negative, pessimistic, and annoying while my friends' are eloquent, insightful, meaninful, honest, and reflective. I feel like my thoughts and what I have to say are worthless. I feel like I'm wasting not only my time, but yours. I feel like even if I want to write something, I'm not articulate enough to express it. I feel like I'm not good enough.

Even last year's AP test. I got a 5, but I feel like a failure. I feel like my 5 isn't really a 5. I feel like it's really a 4, but they put 5 because they felt bad for me. I feel like getting a 5 isn't good enough. It's the highest a person can score. But I fee like somehow I should have been able to be better. Better than the best. And I fell short. I feel like I should have been able to get a 6, but I didn't. And I feel like my 5 truly isn't good enough.

Any time I'm in a group or a situation with others where we all have to do the same thing I always feel like mine's the worst. Like everyone else's is better -- more artistic, more profound, more inspirational. And there's no real, or rather, no rational reason to feel the way I do, but I can't really help it.

What a distorted perspective.

So it goes.

Dear me,

You've been through a lot and have overcome a lot too. Don't let the downs and negative parts of life overshadow the good. You're not perfect, and that is okay, learn to embrace yourself, good and bad. You rose to the challenge this retreat. You were more honest and open this past weekend that you have been the rest of your life. Wow. That's truly amazing and you deserve to be proud of yourself. You have a lot to not only be proud of, but also thankful for. Appreciate all the blessings in your life. You're still confused and scared about a lot of things; keep searching, soon enough you will find the answers you need. Learn to trust other people. You struggle with this, even with people you are close to, again, keep trying, you will go far in life with this attitude. You have unhealthy habits that are dangerous, you have done really well recognizing and dealing with these habits, but it is crucial that you continue to do so. Keep it up, you still have room to improve, and you are not alone, never forget that.

Love,
Yourself

"Maybe"

I believe “maybe” is an excuse. It was mine.

It came from apprehension, from fear, from doubt, from indecision, from ignorance. It was a crutch, a security blanket, and a safety net. I hid behind it, avoiding decisions and commitments. I used it to put things off, to push them to the back of my mind.

For years, when people would ask me if I believed that God existed, I could never give them a straight answer, usually, I’d answer “maybe”. On a retreat over the summer, I was once again asked if I believed in God, but this time was different. This time I couldn’t brush the question off, I couldn’t mumble or change the subject, there was no weaseling my way out. I was going to have to own my thoughts; I was going to be held accountable for my beliefs.

Later, when I was writing in my notebook, I couldn’t stop thinking about God. I was so confused. I was lost. I thought about what God meant to my friends, people at my church, people at the church across the street, people in mosques on the other side of the world. I ended my entry with the sentence “maybe God does exist”. But I was just hiding, again. Before I hiked back, I scribbled down one last thought in the margin; I wrote “God cannot ‘maybe’ exist”.

I think back on that day, that journal entry, and that scribble in the margin, and I think about them often. But somewhere along the way I realized that after all the time I’d spent thinking about God and what other people thought, I hadn’t once considered what I thought.

After a lot of reading, talking, thinking, and searching, I decided. And it was one of the single most amazing things I have ever done.

I struggled with the idea of God. It intimidated me. It terrified me. “Maybe” was my excuse. If I said “maybe” I didn’t have to commit or decide. I was safe, hiding behind my excuse. But I overcame my fears and my doubts. I decided for me. Not for my friends, not for my family, not for the people at my church. Me. I stopped worrying if I was right. I stopped worrying about whether other people would judge me. Because it doesn’t matter if I’m right, and it doesn’t matter if they judge me because finally, finally, I feel like what I think is good enough. I don’t need validation, I don’t need judgment. Because my beliefs matter.

Whatever your “maybe” is, I encourage you to face it. It’s uncomfortable, and probably even scary, but I promise you, if nothing else, it is well worth it.