Time to Say Goodbye.

That's what this post is. A farewell to this silly old blog.

It's gotten frustrating writing on a blog where I try to stay anonymous when clearly I'm not. I think it's best if I move on from Blogger for good.

I would just stop posting entirely, but I figured eventually Mr. E would mention it in class, so I had to give some sort of notice. If anyone still checks this blog occasionally to see if I've posted anything, here's my goodbye! I've moved on. It's been fun and helpful keeping a blog, and I plan to continue with it. Just not here.

So if you happen upon this, if you're Mr. E or maybe Abi, or anyone else who might look at this silly old blog once in a while, follow me here: www.theintrovertedteen.com

It's a new (and final) blog where I don't attempt to be anonymous. One where I write with the actual purpose of encouraging other high schoolers like me. The quiet shy ones who aren't quite sure how to make it through high school.

So yes, here it is. My final post.

Goodbye (:

Happiness.

This week, 3 things happened that have totally ruined any hopes of productivity for this weekend.

One- I bought Les Misérables for myself, (which means I don't have to keep the one that is now practically stolen from my library.)

Two- I got all the licensing and purchasing drama cleared up for Lightroom. (A fantastic photo editing program, for those of you who don't know.) It is now working on my computer for the first time since last year.

Three- My aunt just gave me a white denim jacket she no longer wears... I've only been searching for one just like it for my ENTIRE LIFE. This will lead to more shopping, because I clearly need an outfit to go with it. duh.



And I was hoping to have a productive weekend where I finished all of my late work, cleaned my room, and bought Christmas presents for family... HA.

Oh well!

Dreams.

A little short story I guess...


If anyone had been present, they would have seen her in that empty bedroom, with the dull, faded light coming in from the window. It outlined her small figure curled up on the bed directly beneath it. Blonde hair fell down her back till it just barely touched the blanket, and her knees were tucked up underneath her chin. The light from the window, that soft, gloomy light that always seems to accompany a storm, was focused solely on her eyes. They sparkled and shone with fresh tears.

“Maybe I dream too much,” she whispered. Her eyes wandered across the world outside the window; to trees, to lawns, to the garden. Her flowers, her precious sunflowers.  “I’ve always dreamed a little too big, a little too far, and a little too much.”

She pressed her nose up against the glass, it was cold from the rain. Her blue eyes closed—she breathed deeply. That persistent ache inside her chest would not leave. It wasn’t sharp, not a surprise. It was dull, continuous—it was expected. Didn’t they always leave her feeling like this?

The disappointment clung to her. She shivered. It gripped her fragile heart and refused to release it. The tears flowed down her cheeks again, silently begging her to move on. Let go. Forgive and forget, just one more time. The more the tears came, the tighter the pain clung to her. She wanted to scream out in agony, to curse them for this. She stopped herself. How could she? Even she could not pretend that they knew any better.

“But they should know better,” she hissed through clenched teeth, “They should know how I’ve felt for all these years. They should care.”

They did care. But this was how they had always been with her—distant, forgetful, and hurried. What was it about her that had always scared them away?

Perhaps it was her dreams that scared them; those poor souls fettered down with petty disputes and countless worries. Because that was who she was, a dreamer. A thinker. A world changer. Is that what had always kept them from listening? From understanding? From staying? They would never stay. If she was not suffering, if by some stroke of bad luck she wanted to talk about dreams, she was not worth their time.

Some people are made up of their struggles, but she was not. She was made up of her dreams, her deepest thoughts, her passions, and her endeavors. They did not have time for childish things like that, so they did not know her. Perhaps that was what cut deepest of all. Maybe they cared, she admitted to herself that many times they did try, but it made no difference. For as long as she could remember, they had not known her.

Again she thought, “Maybe I dream too much.”

Something Admirable.

This week I started a little photography business with a close friend of mine. It's a school project to start our own small business and run it for several weeks. I'm very excited about it, and that fact alone makes me a little nervous...

Although I'm an introvert, and not too outgoing, in group projects where I have lots of ideas, I tend to take control. Not in a mean, bossy way, but I'm the kind of person who likes to get stuff done and has no problem delegating tasks to others to make sure that that happens. So no, I am not necessarily bossy, but I do have a tendency to just run right over others during projects if they do not meet with my standards of efficiency.

The friend I am working with on this project is extremely talented, creative, and outgoing. However, she is more of a "go with the flow" person. So although she is a hardworker and will do a fabulous job on whatever school project she's working on, things usually don't move at the pace and in the direction that I naturally want them to. I'm trying to stop myself from taking charge and allowing myself to pay attention to the amazing ideas and contributions my friend has to bring to the project. It's just something, in general, that I need to work on.

Anyways, that's what's happening right now, and its got me thinking. Weird as it is, I admire it when people stand up to me. Not in a rude, make-me-look-bad sort of way, but rather just saying, "No, I disagree," and then standing by their opinion. I am so used to others just submitting with a meek little "Oh okay..." when I present my own ideas, (maybe a bit forcefully at times, I'll admit.) I notice their hesitation and encourage them to make differing suggestions, but usually they back off immediately. And when they do have a suggestion, they'll say whatever it is, then add, "If thats okay..." I know to other people that's just them trying to be polite, but to me, in my mind, it's them asking for permission to have an opinion. That's just crazy to me, so I never quite know how to react. So many people I've worked with have done that, and I'm not sure if it's just how they act, or how I'm acting, or a combination of the two.

Needless to say, it's so refreshing for me when I say what I think and someone else says, "I disagree and here's why..." Sometimes it does hurt my feelings, and sometimes it just plain pisses me off--but I still admire it. I feel like it shows that they're strong. Maybe I admire it because I would do the same, and because my strength and resoluteness in my own opinions is something that I like about myself.

I'm not entirely sure why I like that stubborn strength in others, but I do. To me, it's something admirable.

Inspired.

Yesterday, I gave the speech written out in the last post. Today, several people came up to me to tell me how amazing it was. They all said, "That was awesome! I was almost in tears!" I'm not saying that to brag, because I was quite literally stunned by their overwhelming reaction to it. 

But then this one guy came up to me and said something that stood out to me. (Keep in mind that he's one of the most popular guys in my grade, and probably in my whole high school.)

He walked up to me and told me that what I had said really inspired him. 

It inspired him. My words inspired someone.

He doesn't know this, and probably never will... but that is the greatest compliment that I have ever received. 

Your Voice.

Have you ever heard life compared to a story? And you’re actions compared to words? Do you know that each person is writing their own story and it’s told in their own voice?

            You’re voice is not just made up of the words you say. It’s who you are. To the very depths of your soul—your passions, your dreams, your hopes, and your fears. It’s this voice that tells your story, and it’s this voice that speaks into the lives of other people. I’m here to ask that you make sure it’s worth listening to.

            Some people don’t know what their voice sounds like; some have forgotten. Some people have been through things that others can’t even comprehend. And sometimes that makes their voice a bit weaker. It’s not as loud or as well known as others and their voice gets lost in the crowd. People like this need others to strengthen them, to protect them, and to love them. All of us have the choice to either add to the deafening chaos of the crowd, or to stand by the ones who can’t speak for themselves.

            I’m not here to accuse anyone of acting one way or the other; I’m only here to remind you of the choice. It’s devastating to lose your own voice, to forget who you are. I have seen so many people who suffer through this. I watch as the voices of the people around them, put them down, laugh at them, and then forget them. They’ve been through too much to fight back. They have no voice.

            It’s paralyzing to feel like you’ll never be able to speak. Like your voice will never matter. And although I’m just as guilty as the next person, it breaks my heart to watch as people I pass in the hallway, throw out words like they have no meaning. Our voices matter—more than we will ever know. Careless words can do just as much damage as a stray bullet. If we make the mistake of thinking that there are no consequences for our harsh words, mean glances, and jokes at the expense of others, than we need to wake up.

            You won’t see the tears, and you won’t see the pain. But it’s there. I guarantee it. You’re voice can break someone more easily than anything else. But if you choose to be different—your voice can strengthen them, it can protect them, and it can remind them how to speak.

            I knew a girl once who didn’t know how to speak, only because she had forgotten that she had a voice. And it took a long time, filled with voices that tore her down, and voices that built her back up, for her to remember. For her to realize that she did have a voice; that she mattered.

            And that’s really what I want, for people like her, who feel like they’re worthless, to remember that they have a voice, and that that voice matters. You may not always know who these people are. You might know some, but you certainly don’t know all. We can’t always see what someone’s holding back, what someone might be hiding. You don’t know everyone’s story.  How well do you even know your own?

            As you go through your days, try to be different. You have a voice. It’s what you say, but even more than that, it’s who you are. You can speak into the lives of other people, and break them down. You can make them forget that they matter, just so your voice becomes a little bit louder. Or you can choose to strengthen them, to protect them, to cancel out the lies they’ve heard. You can remind them how to speak.

            Your voice speaks into the lives of those around you, so please make sure it’s worth listening to.

           

Take a Deep Breath.

Have you ever had those days where you feel like the fate of the entire world is dependent upon whether or not you "succeed" at whatever you are doing? That's how I feel right now... As if the amount of my homework, chores, and attempts at a social life actually had any real significance in the grand scheme of things. 

I don't understand my Pre-Calculus homework: "The world is ending..." 

My brain is refusing to except or comprehend anything related to Physics: "Community college here I come..." 

Plans with friends don't work out once: "Well, goodbye social life forever!"

Ridiculous right?

Well, it's nice to know that my little, imagined failures today won't impact the rest of my life. It's so relieving to remember that I don't have to hold the whole world together. 

God's it under control.

Dealing With Frustration.

This frustration has nothing to do with the number of math problems I got wrong on my last assignment. It has nothing to do with my overall grades.

This frustration has everything to do with how I stupid I feel right now. I feel so utterly incompetent, idiotic, and useless. I’ve never felt stupid before in my life. I’ve always been one of the smartest and best students that everyone came to when they needed help. But some of my classes right now, I just don’t understand. Sure, once someone walks me through the steps and shows me exactly how to do it—yeah maybe I can get it then. The problem is that I’ve come to the realization that my brain cannot process certain things as well as everyone else. With my math and physics? There are processes and steps that come to the minds of the people around me so naturally that it’s revolting to me. I have to work my ass off to understand those same problems, (and that’s assuming that I even understand them at all.)

I hate that. I hate having to accept help from other people on a regular basis. I can’t gloat and consider myself to be intellectually superior. I hate not being able to do that. Yeah I know, that’s a horribly rude and arrogant way of thinking, but it’s the truth. It’s ugly, but it’s the truth. I’m so full of myself that the thought of “not being able to do it all” cuts straight through me. And man, it hurts like hell.

I may not understand all of these problems and concepts, but I’ve sure learned one thing—I am not a humble person. Rather, I’m extremely arrogant and conceited.

God’s not pleased with it, and I can sense him working to put a stop to it this year. He’s not taking his usual gentle, sweet approach to correcting me. He’s beating me over the head with this until I get it. With this particular issue, it’s a very effective method, and I can clearly see where he is in all of this frustration. But man does it make me mad.

If I’m completely honest, I don’t feel that stupid. I just keep realizing that I can’t do it all. I am not so intelligent as to be able to excel at anything and everything academic. It’s embarrassing, heartbreaking, and humbling.

I may not be a humble person, but this year, I’m starting to learn how to be.

Another Great Week.

Its been a long week. A very long week.

I've been fighting off this cold/flu thing that everybody seems to be getting, doing several hours of Physics, Pre-Calculus, and dual-enrollment homework most days, getting 5 hours of sleep each night, and finally taking the ACT today. My brain is gone. Just gone. 

Okay. Sorry. That's all my complaining out of the way at the beginning of the post. It was an incredibly long week, but it was a great one! Tuesday and Thursday were perfect, and Friday wasn't all that bad. I was proud of myself for being able to just brush off a couple of spiteful jokes the other girls made about me. Normally several of the things they said would have crushed me. It still hurts, but now I'm able to brush off most of their obnoxious comments and say, "Well it's their loss!" 

One thing that still bothers me though is my intense fear of class presentations. My AP Language teacher announced to the class that we have a presentation due in two weeks, and I almost died. My heart started pounding, I felt sick, and my hands started shaking. I don't think anyone other than my friend--who was seating right next to me--noticed. Seriously though, I don't know if its gotten worse or something because I talk about it more, but I've never gotten that freaked out just hearing about an assignment. Oh God help me. 

Alright, sorry, I'm kind of complaining again aren't I? I'm just petrified. Kids in my class hear me say this kind of thing, then laugh and say, "Oh you'll be fine!" I'm like, "No, seriously... I think I might puke." Still, the friend that noticed in class the other day told me that I could definitely practice in front of her first. She was very sympathetic to my irrational fear. She's such an extrovert, and she loves class presentations, so for her to acknowledge how I felt about it was very sweet. 

Overall, it was a great week. A long, exhausting week... but a great one. 

What I'm Thankful For Today.

Today, I'm thankful for my friends. They are so forgiving and so loving even when I don't deserve it. (And I hardly ever deserve it.) They constantly surprise me by reminding me that they care about me and making a genuine effort to be apart of my life. They make me laugh till I cry, encourage me when I'm down, and put up with me when I'm angry. Every now and then I stop and think about how lucky I am. I should probably do that more often.