And I Wanted So Much to be an Hourglass...

My life...

It's like holding fistfuls of sand, each grain a moment in time. My hands clenched as tight as possible, trying to remember every single feeling and second of my life, but I can't stop the grains from falling from my grasp. Pretty soon, the only ones left are creating indents in my hands too striking to forget. And as time goes on, I keep grabbing more and more sand only to have it slip through my fingers again no matter how hard I try to hold on. Though there are ones I want to remember, and ones I want to forget, my memory is not as selective as I'd like. There are certain big grains of sand that make marks that will never go away, but some little ones slip away without me even realizing they existed to begin with. 

And I wanted so much to be an hourglass.

My research was awesome! And then I talked with Jace on Tuesday and he loosely said "nah,"  and told me that my meta idea is good, but I should pick a topic in my field and not be all stressed out over something I'm not incredibly excited to do. (sigh)

But I did learn a lot and I found hundreds of resources that will help me in the future write much better, and I have a lot of tabs now bookmarked for future reference so maybe one day I can impress Jace. (sigh) 

I actually loved the readings, I found specific studies that I pointed out and directly attached them to others in the passage. They all used a lot of qualitative methods which mean they were potentially biased. And it's really hard, from what all of the studies have shown even, to compare one student to the next. 

I expect to see the knowledge gap growing in the future. If some kids start up with a cushy childhood like I did and some kids did not, I know that one lifestyle leads to a much greater advantage over the other. (strong feelings) I feel that because all children learn differently and have different odds stacked against them, that there's no real reason to ever compare them to each other. Learning should be tailored to meet individuals even a little bit, and not try and measure everyone with one scale. 

And when I don't match up to my peers in one aspect, I may in another. Which makes me feel a little bit better, but how fair is it that one area of me is stronger than the other but only one is measured across the board? 

I love being engaged. It's basically what has gotten me to this point. I understand the material for the most part. But often I struggle with getting the words right in the style that the teacher finds acceptable. I am good at talking with teachers and my peers. But I will definitely need help when it comes to taking feedback and understanding it without feeling awful every time. And I want to increase my knowledge. Growing up and experiencing different things has helped me learn and understand a lot more than just sitting reading a book. I've learned a lot from mistakes and asking for help. I am a bit of a snail though and need time to figure out and get to where I'm going. It's going to be a long learning process. 

A Submission for a Thing

Name: Olivia Van Housen
Age: 19
Gender: Female
Twitter / Instagram Handle: stlgirl1216

Tell Us Your Story.....

[Songs/Album Title bolded]

You know those moods you get when you really need to listen to specific songs?

I'm one of those select few people who listen to songs only on repeat for hours at a time. I can tell you thousands of lyrics by memory. Each specific song is important to me. Some trigger memories and feelings. I can also tell you exactly what I saw, where I was, and what I felt the night I listened to Sounds Good Feels Good for the first time. 

This entire album highlights the actual pop punk rock scene and the bullied or cast aside kids understand who can connect with the music on a higher level. From afar, I appreciate you as humans, who created something that helped save us from ourselves. It will take a long time for you to reach the same levels of audiences as I know you hope for, but that's ok. 

I listen to music all the time. A couple years ago "Amnesia" was the song I cried to for hours alone in my empty house writing letters while my mom and my sister were at the new apartment that didn't have any place for me. From the new album, when I listened to Broken Home for the first time I almost burst into tears while studying with some friends in a coffee shop. Thankfully I reached home before I played it on repeat and had my feelings about it. The lyrics resonated with me so deeply, and I thank you for that. My parents went through a very abrupt split about a month before I left for college and two years later I still haven't gotten through it to the point where I can say I'm truly alright. But I'm working on it. I didn't get to have the true range of emotions about it at the time, because I had to be an "adult" and take care of both family ends. So now the feelings come in bits and pieces. 0/10 do not recommend. 

Jet Black Heart is great for when I have to put on the "I'm ok" act for others when I really just want to go home and lay down, or I get that feeling of wanting to cry or break something and I just have to reign it in. I always worry. I worry about my family and their financial situation, I worry about my friends, I worry about school, I worry about figuring out who I'm supposed to be in time, I worry about being on time, I worry about forgetting an important meeting, the list goes on and on. When family tells me "don't worry about money" and then complains to me about how awful the finances are, of course I'm going to worry. I spend my pay checks getting myself food, I've had different jobs for years to try and pay for myself in any way possible. If I want something I go out and get it on my own. I don't like to rely on other people, especially not my family. I try to complain as little as possible. I try to be a good listener and attentive to other people. But when just want to cry and tell someone how much everything sucks sometimes, I keep it to myself and bottle it up inside. And then worry if I ever got into a serious relationship they wouldn't get it, so I hold people at a far distance. I think you guys know a little about this type of complex. 

Your music helps when I finally feel myself breaking down, or when I need a catalyst to get me to feel. I've dealt with personal issues in my head for a long time. I grew up in and out of therapy, on medicine, and living with self-hate. Now, I've been so busy with college and work I barely take care of myself. There has always been that constant battle in my head I keep contained. Music is one of the only ways I've been able to let out some emotion. Thank you for that. 

The sort of bridge resolution mix at the end of Outer Space is soothing, and reminds me of the school library now because most nights I'm stuck studying and doing homework late. The first time I heard it I laughed because it can't rain in space(I'm partially a science major) and thought of the illusion to the impossibility that the girl would ever really love the guy again. And he would be waiting forever floating in these feelings of loneliness but not able to let go because he believes so strongly in the feeling that her love gave him. Maybe it wasn't your intention to be this deep and science ish, but you can definitely steal this if you want. 

Invisible has the wonderful sound of the typewriter which I love, and often I wonder to this song. I'm still trying to figure it out who I am. I don't know what I want to do with my life, my self-confidence is the height of an ant, and I feel like there is a level of meaninglessness to my life because I'm just going through the motions. I want to help people. I want to make a difference in the world, stop injustices, and give people a chance to be heard by someone who cares about what they think and what they've been through.

[Side Note] I remember when I went to your concert in Tampa, I had a letter for you guys apologizing because I know to a small degree how awful you must have felt during times of the tour. I wanted to tell you that I was sorry and that the tour was almost over so you can soon let go of all of that pain for a little while. I can understand laying in bed hiding tears and not wanting to tell anyone because, your life is so great, how could you? And I'm sure you know that feeling of pressure in your chest like all of your ribs are going to break from some invisible force. Trust me when I say, it's pretty similar on this end too. (Also, sorry you have to suffer those awful insane teenage girl screams.)

I'm also sorry that because of what you do, you can't trust people in the same way as before. Your work defines who you are, your mistakes are not as easily fixed, and each relationship made is now taken with caution never confident that the people around you really care about you or what you have attached to your name. 

I'm not that much older than you are, but I can give a little advice. I know it's hard to go through life, but try and find the good in the little things. I can't tell you how many times I've smiled at butterflies and frogs because nothing else made sense. Finding new music is also one of those little bursts of happiness. Don't forget to do something for yourself.

Thank you for making music that impacts my life, and will continue to in the future. Your songs have helped me through some rough nights, and I know this was a terribly long email, so also thanks for reading it. 

I wish you all happiness.

-Olivia Van Housen

My "After Messing Up" Email...

I am truly sorry for endangering other students with my poor decision to pick up a wild raccoon. It was not my intention to hurt or worry anyone. I was not thinking clearly and made a horrible choice that impacted a lot of lives in a negative way. I did not mean for anyone else to be harmed, especially my fellow students. 

There are a lot of reasons behind my actions, but none of them are any excuse for putting others in danger. I have learned a lot from this experience and I will do what I can to prevent situations like these going forward. I take full responsibility for my actions and I am sorry for endangering other students due to my lack of judgement. 

I wish to remedy the situation in any way possible.

Trial 6

I was pretty sure that good woman was scheming all night.

This story begins in the forest. I was 15 years old, chopping a 6 foot tall tree for firewood. It had just begun to snow, and I felt a chill in my bones. After several hours with my axe, the deed was almost done. I wasn’t aware of the woman behind me until I stopped to rest once more. 

“Hello,” she said with a kind smile. “Do you happen to have a moment?”

“Of course, is there anything I can do?” I didn’t want to be rude. “Are you lost?” 

“No, young man. I was just wondering if you knew anything about the tree there.” I glanced at the tree which was almost in half before noting her appearance for the first time. She looked to be about 70. Her hair was as white as the snow that fell around her which made her blue eyes her most prevalent feature. 

“I can’t say I know much.” 

“Indeed. Perhaps you have a moment out of the cold to help me find my way home? You see the snow has covered my path, but I’m sure it will only be a moment. Don’t worry the tree will be here when you get back.” 

“Of course.” I put my axe down and walked with the old woman past the tree. After a few moments I spotted a small cottage not too far from where we had started. I helped her make her way to the door. “Do you need anything else?”

“Oh no, thank you my dear. But you must stay for some tea! I insist. For helping me home, of course. Don’t worry the sun doesn’t set for a while now. Come in! Come in!” Nearly pulling me inside, she shut the door behind us. 

“Do you live here alone?”

“Yes, but my family comes to visit every so often. Come! Sit by the fire and warm yourself. You must be exhausted.” The room was reasonably bare, with a nice rug by the fire and a few armchairs. Another hall led off to the right of the fireplace perhaps to a bedroom, and to the left was what I could guess a tiny kitchen. “What type of tea?” she called from the room to the left of the fire. 

“Any is fine.” I sat down on an armchair and felt myself warm considerably. “You have a lovely home.”

“Why thank you,” she returned in a moment with two cups of tea and handed me one before sitting down opposite me. “Now, you said you know nothing about the tree which you were cutting down?”

“That is correct,” I sipped my tea, “I do not. I was only told to go and cut.”

“Wise man. How long have you been working on cutting that tree?”

“One full day already. I’m not very skilled yet.” 

“Indeed. How would you like to become a real woodsman? I can help you. See, I have a potion that could make you strong. Even strong enough to surpass your father.” My interest sparked, and I took another sip of tea.

“How would that happen?” 

“Just finish your tea. You will be able to cut the tallest trees with three strokes, but be warned, do not swing your axe more than required.” At age 15, I would be able to take down the tallest trees. I was enticed, and drank the rest of the tea. I felt no different than before. The woman smiled and said, “It is your reward for helping me home. Now, go collect your axe and return home. Tomorrow you will see the effects.” She showed me out and I said my goodbyes.

The next morning I arose early, in no mood to stay around the house. I had gotten little sleep and the sounds from the night before still rang in my head. I snuck out before anyone awoke and took my axe to the tree that I had been working on cutting down, eager to test if the magic worked. With one stroke I sliced cleanly through the rest of the tree and it fell to the snowy forrest floor. I then tried again with a different tree, cutting once, twice, three times. It fell right next to the other. I began chopping up the fallen trees to take them back to the house. Once I had arrived home, my father laughed at how early I was. Drunkenly he remarked how it should have taken me a week to chop two trees, and spilled some of his alcohol on the floor in his fit of laughter. When he slowed his laughter, he noticed the spill and yelled for my mother who emerged from the kitchen. I smiled sadly to her when my father rose from his chair, then he pushed me outside and shut the door. I knew what was coming, and I grasped the door handle for steadiness. The sound was so loud the walls could not muffle it, like a snap mixed with a gunshot. I could not take it. Again and again it happened. Just like last night. I ran to my axe, without thinking and swung once, twice, three times at the door. Then I ran inside. Again, I let the axe swing once, twice, three times. 

-Finished right on time no editing. 6:51 PM

"Drunk on the idea that only someone else's romantic love can fill our emptiness."

Nothing in this post was related.

Trial 1 for my Writing About Writing Paper

My life’s work consists of selling medicines out of a cart. As odd as it may sound, the townspeople are grateful for my mixtures that have “magical properties.” For the longest time I had to go as a salesperson door-to-door, asking if anyone needed cures for their ailments. My first client was a man by the name of Thomas. He had a high fever and his family was desperate for some sort of remedy. I gave him a small vile and went on my way. The next day when I was in the market buying some food, Thomas came barreling through the crowd and rushed to shake my hand. His fever had disappeared. He even offered to buy me a meal, but I refused. All I asked of him was that he would spread word of the medicine’s success. 

That was a month ago. Now my medicines are in constant demand for ailments such as fevers, stomach pains, dizziness, etc. The cart had become less door-to-door and now only goes to the main market. One day, a young man approached the cart. He seemed to eye the wares with curiosity and I let him do so. Slowly, the man moved closer and signaled for me to converse. I complied. He said that he had an addiction to heroin and wondered if I had any remedy. The story that followed his request described his year-long struggle losing his family and home to the addiction. He had no one left to turn to, and told me the amount he was willing to pay.

I was unsure whether or not my medicines would be able to combat this type of ailment. I asked him if he could meet me here tomorrow and I would give him something best suited for treating his disease. That night, after pouring over what seemed like a thousand books, I was able to find some sort of old apothecary medicine hidden on one of the last pages in my collection. I followed the instructions and crafted this elixir, praying that it would at least lessen the severity of this man’s disease. 

The next morning as soon as I arrived he appeared at my cart. His eyes were bloodshot and it looked like he had not slept in months. I handed him the medicine and he gave me a very large sum in exchange. I did not question where he had gotten the money, though I did ponder about it. He nodded to me and then disappeared into the now bustling crowd. I never saw him again.

That night before I fell asleep I felt a strange sensation creep up into my body, curling around my lungs and heart up into my brain. I had no idea what was happening. When I awoke, I felt a hunger like never before. Upon looking in the mirror, my eyes were red and the veins seemed to raise from the eyes altogether. I was in shock. I had never gotten sick in my entire life. For a while I wondered what could have brought on this sickness, but then the intense craving captured my attention once more. I drank cups of water trying to satiate the feeling, yet it kept returning as soon as I set the glass down. Eating also did not lessen the pains. My head began to pound and I felt dizzy. After a long morning I went out to the market. Along the way, I passed by a store that usually I paid no attention to, but there was this lingering feeling of longing and it pulled me in. The shopkeeper asked what I was looking for and before I knew it the word “heroin” flew from my mouth. I found myself giving the shopkeeper money and receiving a small bag in exchange. Forgetting all about my work I pulled the cart back home. Somehow I effortlessly took in small bits of the drug until my hunger seemed to calm. In a out-of-mind state I realized that the medicine I had given to the man would not get rid of his addiction, but move it to myself and all of the knowledge about where to find the drugs came with it. Because I had only ever cured short term ailments, they had no effect on me. But now, I was stuck with this terror. 

Once my daze had calmed down the hunger returned. I cried for the first time in years, unsure where my life was headed. All I knew was that I needed something to stop the pain. 

HP and Zombies

When your college is weird...