I'm One of the Fools...

It's like not being able to breathe

I wish it were that simple

It's like screaming at the darkness

If only it were that black and white

I am a creature of light but not an angel

Because I'm one of the fools who rush in

However strong you may see me isn't always the truth

The fragility of my own heart is my greatest frustration

Yet, it is also one of my greatest strengths

At least I like to think so for it is all I can offer

All I have are these pictures, points of light

Lighting up the dark night with brilliance

Beauty I cannot touch, but hold

So I cling to them with trembling hands

Your voice calls to me, sings to me

To deny it would be to deny my own heartbeat

You created me that way, didn't You?

A living paradox of flesh and bone

How easy it is to feel like I'm drowning

Any good thing in me is You

Apart from You, I have nothing

Alone in a crowd while I in isolation

Face every facet I can't fight

Such power there is in words

It's no wonder we want to be heard

I never stopped listening

I wasn't saved for nothing after all

Though too often it is so easy to believe so

So hard to feel rational some days

When I question my own sanity

Is it too late?

This is so far beyond my understanding

The most beautiful parts of my life are

Even the parts that are yet to come

Maybe that's why they scare me

All my cards are on the table

So what do you want to happen?

It was never really my choice to begin with

I feel like I'm fading, less of me and more of You

I believe, only help my unbelief

These dreams can't stand on their own

I'm at the point where I can't either

Sometimes it is divinely all right to be broken

Love only knows if it will be all right in the end

Will you give into fear, how far will you run

Would you even recognize yourself in the end?

All these words at my disposal and I don't know what to say

Though even if I did, I'm not sure it would make a difference

I wish it would, just for once, empty echoes get old

Maybe I'm just rambling nonsense, maybe I'm mad

Maybe I'm simply not as here as I wish to be

In the end, it is not our intent, but our choices

I'd walk away if that's what it took

Taking the pretty pictures of light with me

If that's what it took to convince you

Because I'm one of those fools that rush in

Je suis une enfante qui a perdu son moyen

Qui est le message, est ce que je suis le mouton

Dans mon couer tout ce n'est pas bien

Je te donne dans ton main le couteau

Je tiens ton avenir, tu tiens ma fin

D'etre tout seule, ce n'est pas mon choix

Mon couer bat si doucement mais il bat

Tu as entendu sa musique, ecoute sa chanson

Simplement ecouter a ta familier

Je crois en toi, est ce que c'est difficile

De crois en moi aussi?

All These Beautiful Things I Can't Fight

There are so many things that I could write about. Too many things really, which is nice and at the same time strangely conflicting. As though the stories constantly bouncing around in my head needed competition. This year is coming to a close and it's strangely bittersweet. This year has been, by far, one of the strangest I have survived. That is kind of what it feels like too, that I have survived it. I'm a full fledged, degree holding college student now. I've taken to it a bit better than I expected to. This is encouraging to me, because like anything daunting, I had found myself unworthy or more accurately unable to rise to meet something and overcome it.

I have become a writing fiend. If you want any evidence of that, simply look at the number of notes/ blogs I've put out. I can't keep myself inside my head anymore. It would kind of scare me if I did. I truly think that is why I write, to get my thoughts out of my own head. Though my writing was far more prolific earlier in the year. It's slowed down, mostly due to school. Though I have been working on a different story, which has been wicked fun. I have characters that are completely insane and that has been so much fun to play with. I guess it's because sometimes I feel like I might be losing it. My mind is a very messy and if nothing else, entertaining place. I suppose it's the core of my writing, the ability to place my otherwise random thoughts into words.

I have come through this mess of a college semester with rather fantastic set of grades. This too has been fantastically encouraging. I am smart. I forget that sometimes. When I was younger I used to fight it. Being smart was a one way ticket to unpopularity. I was cast out because I was the curve breaker. Then I hit a point where I didn't care, I was a smart girl and I wasn't going to fight that anymore. There aren't very many places for smart people to express themselves. Being smart doesn't seem to be a treasure in this culture anymore. Then we turn around and scoff when the smart kids are making all the money. I am a smart kid, not a super genius mind you, but I am quite intelligent. Sometimes it can be a bit alienating. It's hard for me to relate to people sometimes. Often I kind of sympathize with the guys from The Big Bang Theory. While I hope I'm not nearly as awkward, I feel I am sometimes. This is made worse in exponential degrees when I'm around a cute boy. I can't even think of what would happen if I was around a cute guy being smart...it would be like dividing by zero or something crazy like that.

It's so easy to feel fragile sometimes. So many people count on other people to be strong. Even the strongest person needs permission to break from time to time. To not allow this is to not allow that person to be human. Humans are fragile, excessively breakable. It's so easy to look over that fact, so easy to forget that we are all imperfect. It is our habit to put people on a pedestal. Those in whom we find attributes worthy of attention or admiration we tend to see as infallible or even invincible. Time and experience are sharp teachers and quite quickly teaches us otherwise. People weren't meant to be put on a pillar. It is unfair both to us and the person we hold in such high esteem. People deserve to be believed in, the same way that every soul deserves a chance to be. So many times we hold the hearts of people in our hands and we're so scared to lose them we hold so tightly that there is no room for them to breathe. I have been guilty of that so many times. I have a deep abiding fear of losing people in my life. It always seems to happen. Losing people is inevitable if you live long enough.

I like to be hopeful, particularly about people. Some say I am far too trusting, and maybe that is true. I believe in people, maybe more than they deserve. Is that even quantifiable? I have been stepped on, stabbed in the back and had my heart broken more times than I can count, but despite it, I've never stopped believing in people. Sometimes just being believed in can change somebody's life. It can make all the difference in the world. I believe in the sanctity of life, in the beauty of the human soul. It would certainly be easier to be less trusting, to be so cynical that I don't believe in anybody anymore. It would be easier for me in the long run, certainly less painful. I can't though. Maybe it's the deep seated optimism, maybe God has given me a heart for people because He knows I can't live alone, without fellowship. My soul needs to be with others. Perhaps it is selfish in nature. Maybe I believe in people so hard because I hope that some day, maybe some day, enough people will believe that same way in me.

Why I Don't Hate Weddings

I want to say here and now that I am a fan of weddings, I really am. I love weddings, I love the idea of marriage, I love married couples, well...you get the idea. I myself have been in several weddings, not twenty seven mind you, but a decent few. I have been nearly everything a girl can be in a wedding; the welcoming party manning the guest sign-in, helping with food, a flower girl, a bridesmaid, and even maid of honor. Always a bridesmaid...

May I say here and now how very much I hate that phrase. Please don't misunderstand me, I have been honored to be in every single wedding I was asked to be a part of, particularly when I have been asked to be in the wedding party. It meant that I made enough of an impact in a woman's life that on what is supposed to be the greatest day of their life, they were given the task of figuring out what three or four women they wanted to be there for them with them beside them to help them and support them in one of the grandest celebrations life has to offer. When given this rather daunting task, I was one of the women that they chose. While their choice has not always necessarily made sense to me, I am honored by it. I have every right to be.

I like attending weddings despite the always awkward time after the ceremony where we all wait for them to finish pictures and munch on whatever interesting finger (and sometimes not so finger) foods that are served to us on little plastic plates and we sit at tables with people we have never met and explain our association to either the bride or groom, sipping on either sweet tea or a punch concoction that somehow remains a mystery while they play nondescript typically uninteresting music in the background.

Then they announce the entrance of the bride and groom. The awkward waiting is replaced by the beautiful moment of the first dance. I personally love this part. I adore the idea that they first dance belongs to them, accompanied by a song that is their own, that we are all invited on a wonderfully intimate moment as they spin (and in some cases stumble) on a dance floor that has been barred from anybody else so that it can be christened by the newly married couple. Some couples talk, some just smile, some blush, some whisper in each others ears, some brides lay their head on their new husbands chests, some get really crazy and throw a few spins in there. This is usually followed by the daddy/ daughter dance. "Butterfly Kisses" used to have the monopoly on this particular moment, but no more! Good ol' SCC comes out with "Cinderella" giving us all another reason to cry at these things...or at least I cry. The Dad holds his daughter and smiles, in part because he is getting rid of her, in part because this day is proof that she has found the happiness that he always hoped she would. They dance and all the world watches as they physically manifest their own bittersweet farewell. For some reason it always brings a tear to my eye. There is such love as they dance, such hope. The father represents both himself and her mother as he sends forth his little girl with the hopes that he raised her well, he trusts her life and well-being to another man in one of the greatest forms of sacrifice in existence today.

After some dancing, typically including some form of line-dance comes the other awkward moment of weddings, well one of many. The slow dance. I've always hated slow dances in my adult life. They just remind me of Prom and basically every other dance I've been to. I sit...alone watching as other happy couples join hands and hold each other close. There have been the rare occasions where a dear friend who was the bride's brother danced with me like he promised, despite the fact his girlfriend and ex were both there. It made me smile because I enjoyed myself. It was just two friends dancing and it meant nothing more. We laughed and I tried not to fall on my face. I have danced with children, twirling them, inducting them into a world that I hope and pray as I hold them in their arms that they won't go through unaccompanied. I pray that they have partners for their slow dances that will inevitably come to pass. Then there was the time that they made me and the boy who had caught the garter dance together, or they instigated it and I had the guts to ask him (which if you know me, took a lot for me to do). Why did they want us to dance? Well because apparently it is a tradition rarely practiced that the girl who catches the bouquet dances with the boy who catches the garter. Which leads me to the inspiration for this whole thing.

As of Saturday evening, I have now caught a total of five bouquets. Five of them. Most girls go through life catching maybe one. Oh no, not me, I have to be weird. So I catch five. Usually, and please believe me when I say this, I only tried to catch it before it hit the ground. I wasn't really going for it, I'm not one of those single girls who tackle and push and fight to catch it. I used to want to, but it wasn't for the sake of catching it, I was just too competitive not to 'win'. I stopped believing in the 'magic' of catching the bouquet quite some time ago. After catching yet another one, (again, simply to save it from hitting the ground (there is picture proof), I only got up to get it because I was called out) I became curious about why this tradition happens in the first place. Like so many things in regards to our odd traditions, the origin is rather barbaric (like did you know the reason bridesmaids used to wear dresses similar to the bride is so that they'd confuse evil spirits? Apparently it was a bit more of a commitment and sacrifice to be a bridesmaid back then, then again, who doesn't want to be a possible scape goat for evil spirits?) and the tradition of throwing the bouquet is no different. The tradition started in fourteenth century France. A bride was considered particularly lucky on her wedding day to the point that as soon as the wedding ceremony was over, there was a stampeding horde typically comprised of single women that would rush her in order to rip off a piece of her wedding dress to obtain a bit of said luck. They would rip pieces off of her dress. So in order to appease the crowd, she would fling her bouquet and run. So you know, they wouldn't stampede her and rip off her dress. Yeah, thankfully nobody does that anymore, but the tradition remains. There is still stampeding in certain cases, some cases of violence, but the origin is barbaric at best. And we follow it, these strange traditions that exist simply because they always have. They are a part of weddings that too often serve as short versions of Valentine's Day to us single folk. Are they intended to do so? I don't think so. They are a celebration that, despite ourselves, as happy as we are for our friend, whether bride or groom, we feel that dull or sometimes searing pain in our hearts that what we see is nothing we have a part in. I have single friends who hate weddings for this very reason and refuse, no matter how close the friend, to accept an invitation to a wedding. Regardless of my reservations on weddings and their often odd and strangely founded traditions, I am not a part of this group.

Why? Because I still believe in love. I believe in it so hard. Have I been hurt? Yeah, not nearly to the extent that many have, but the reasoning behind that is enough for a whole different posting, but I have understood heartbreak. Have I watched two people 'in love' grow to hate each other and go back on their vows? Yes, I have and my heart breaks. Call me naive, I am under the childish delusion that when two people love each other and promise to love each other for the rest of their lives, make a covenant before God (who supposedly brought them together in the first place) that they'll stay together forever. Love is a state of permanence in my mind. Blame it, if you want, on the rather fantastic example of my own parents. They have stayed together and has it been hard? Absolutely, but no songs are ever written about the love stories that come easily. Have I been 'alone' and wouldn't know what it would be like to not be that way? Yes, but I am not one of those girls who need a 'man' in her life to define her. I don't need to be in a relationship to know who I am, a good thing too. I listened at Daniel and Samantha's wedding as they said their vows that they had written to each other, I saw the tears well up in his eyes as he saw her for the first time, I watched the love in their eyes as they danced and it made me smile.

I smiled because I still believe. I believe in love and I believe in the beauty of sharing your life with another person. I believe love is one of the greatest things that God has ever come up with, it is the driving force that perhaps doesn't make the world turn, but it makes the mad spinning worthwhile. I love weddings because I know that some day...some day it will be at my wedding that people will be smiling. It will be my first dance that people will cry to. It will be my eyes that well up with tears while saying my vows. It will be his eyes I stare into with the keen and overwhelming revelation that this man, my dearest friend, is who God has blessed me with and has deemed perfect just for me. It will be my bouquet that I toss at single girls to appease them so I don't get my dress ripped and you better believe that is precisely what I will be thinking about as I do it. I love weddings because even if only for a day, despite what little things go wrong it is a celebration of everything that God created to be right with the world. It is a reflection of Jesus and His Bride. It is something beautiful and despite its absolute madness, I love weddings. I truly, truly do.