Love, I Fear I've Burned Out

   

     I haven't posted in a long while. Unless you count two days ago, which I don't, because it was horribly written. I think I've burned out. I have no energy nor any desire to do anything. I'm tired all the time, I feel sick all the time, and everyone's existence is annoying me.
     Don't worry, it's not you, it's me.
     I can't write, though I have ideas. They end up getting lost in my mind. Of late, I can't seem to articulate my thoughts at all, let alone type them up nicely.
     Writing is exhausting if you're doing it right, no matter how talented of a writer you are.

   
     Realizations that are irritating me (I have to write something today...):  <-- inadvertent frown.

• I make annoying sounds when I'm bored.
• I cringe when I step into sunlight.
• I put Twitter on my phone to trick my brain into thinking I get texted a lot.
• I carry around an annoying, little notebook in my back pocket.
• I wear ear plugs in my house.
• I occasionally take off my glasses just because I'm tired of the heavy frames slipping off my face.
• I write letters to people that aren't here.
• I hate that I still log onto Facebook.
• I purposely ignore people most of the time.
• I like to think I am clever.
• I clench my jaw when I type.
• I get so angry when Bruno Mars pops up in my Pandora stations.
• I know that I'm allergic to a metal in necklace chains, but I continue to wear them.

     My brain is fried.
     This computer screen dries my eyes.
     Love, I have burned out. Enjoy the blank pages.
   

Whit Happens

Sideways Fires, Paralyzed Hikers, and Water Falling from the Sky

     The Fourth of July has never been an event that I exclusively look forward to. The idea of being forced into what feels like a war zone isn't so appealing and the fact that we do it for fun kind of disgusts me. Am I the only one who sees fireworks that way? Think about it: searing rockets splitting the sky, explosions surrounding you, random bursts of light and flame engulfing the air...we imitate a war zone! And we do it for fun! Sick. Really sick.
     By the time it was dark enough to do fireworks, I was exhausted. Earlier, my family had hiked at Sundance and we met a young girl with a birth defect who was unable to walk on her own. Her left pant-leg, just below the knee, hung empty and swayed in the wind. I watched her skillfully maneuver her crutches along the trail that was maybe barely a foot wide. My dad talked to her and her dad as we hiked. They were visiting from Tennessee and their Southern accents told stories and random facts about themselves in a way that vaguely reminded me of the get-to-know-you game. I learned that this girl went all through high school on crutches. She never used a wheelchair and never wanted one. She liked hiking, and just because one leg was dysfunctional, didn't mean she wasn't going to do it. Her dad mentioned that she was wanting to hike to the Timpanogos Caves before they left (Can you imagine? I don't like the steep incline on two legs, let alone on crutches!). All in all, they were nice people and I was absolutely blown away at how well she handled the hike. It's amazing to see people who, despite their circumstances, simply refuse the idea that something can't be done. If I were in her situation, I can pretty much guarantee that I would not be hiking. In all honesty, I'd probably take the wheelchair. It was neat to learn about them. That hike was easily one of my favourite hikes, simply because I knew that I had nothing on her and certainly no room to complain. It's a comfort to know that there are still goodhearted people out there who put their full effort into achieving what some would call impossible. Afterall, someone's going to have to compensate for people like me.

     No, sharing that story doesn't really give me room to complain about how tired I was, but really, I was done for the day. There's a reason I don't have a birth defect; I'm not the inspirational type.

While my dad was getting ready to start the fireworks, we had a conversation that went something like this:

     "Dad, we're the only ones doing fireworks on our whole street."

     "Well...oh, look! That family down there is doing some."

     "They don't count. The point is, we never get invited to parties."

     And I was SO right.
     The street adjacent ours had a huge crowd gathered and they were blowing up some really big fireworks. Y'know, the ones that are now apparently legal? Yeah, those ones. While those were blowing up, I got to watch my dad occasionally burn his finger and curse the fuse lines on our Walmart package. Y'know, the fireworks that spit colours from a box? Yeah, those ones. So, we watched our fireworks, overwhelmed with excitement as they were clearly the most compelling fireworks on the block that night, and then...it started raining. I experienced a new perspective of fireworks this year. After the wind knocked them over, I had the unique privilege of watching them catch fire and melt their packaging. We ended up just going inside and watching television.
      What can I say? Whit Happens.

P.S. I don't usually mix my sarcastic complaints with serious issues. I really do, sincerely, admire that girl from the hike. I'm not trying to make light of her injury.

Beauty's Definition

    I've always been one to harp on the definition of beauty. It's interesting, when you type "beauty" into Google, this is what comes up.

                               

    I'm not sure how define beauty without calling it subjective. According to Webster, the definition of beauty is, " 1. the quality present in a person or thing that gives intense aesthetic pleasure or deep satisfaction to the mind or the senses. 2. a beautiful person, esp. a woman. 3. a beautiful thing, as a work or art. 4. Often, beauties. something that is beautiful in nature or in some natural or artificial environment. 5. a particular advantage." 

     Honestly, I read that and immediately thought, "What the h-word?!". Even the dictionary gives a subjective definition. Who knew?

     On one hand, I want to believe that beauty is in the eye of the beholder, but on the other, I worry that the world is defining beauty from the same perspective - the wrong perspective from the wrong beholder. Does that make sense? How does the world view beauty? Flawless skin, silky hair, delicate hands, long eyelashes, good bone structure, symmetric features, and an hourglass figure tend to be the main criteria defining beauty for women, but the list goes on and on. It seems to me that the common factor between most definitions of beauty is fear. It's a fear of exposure; a fear to be seen or known. Why do we fear that? Why do we fear imperfection? Why do we fear that we may be imperfect? Isn't that essentially the same as fearing that we are human? Imperfection is a fact of life, the sooner it's learnt, the better. The key to accepting imperfection begins with the self, and further, the self's motives.
     Our motives differ because each of us have different goals. There are two extremes to finding acclaimed beauty: external satisfaction vs. internal satisfaction. The way that we view ourselves is reflected through everything we do. To someone who feeds on external satisfaction, extensive measures are taken in order to receive the acceptance, praise, and love from those around them. To someone whose motive is internal, the opinions of others is irrelevant. The biggest difference between these two motives is the amount of love that one has toward themselves. A person whose knowledge of their potential, value, and importance; who's confident in who they genuinely are, is the person who loves themselves. They believe and know that they are beautiful. In opposition, a person who doesn't really know who they are, isn't very confident, and doesn't fully understand the value that they could put forth, exemplifies an act of self-loathing. Simple enough, right?
     I'm trying to differentiate between apathy and contentment. Apathy may even be too strong a word to use in this context because there is still a desire to be beautiful, it's the hope that's gone. Contentment, even, could be too strong due to the fact that each person views contentment differently. Another subjective term...who saw that one coming? What I'm trying to get at is that I am not an advocate of quitting. There's a huge difference between contentment with a desire to improve and victimizing oneself without trying to improve, but still claiming contentment. Understand? Someone making themselves the victim by focusing on all the physical attributes that they lack and, because of this, eventually give up at trying to look their best is not the attitude I condone. However, the person who is content with their appearance and puts forth the effort to preserve that appearance, that is the person whom I admire. As we are human, we desire to be the best that we can be. We need only harness who we are. Everything comes back to how we view ourselves. Some things we can't change, but those minor issues fade to nothing when we develop a genuine love for ourselves and recognize the irrelevance of the way others define beauty. So, though you don't care, I'll tell you what I've come to find as my definition of beauty.
     Beauty is vulnerability. There is something to be said about a being willing to expose themselves and endure the reactions of the world. A teacher whom I admire, once told me that the scariest part of life is, after you create, releasing your creation for the world to do with it what they will. The confidence in yourself, the love for yourself, and the immovable knowledge of who you are becomes so evident once you humble yourself enough to be vulnerable in your strongest armour. To throw yourself into the world, to me, is one of the most beautiful things in life. Not everyone will like us nor will they all understand us, but by understanding ourselves, loving ourselves, and knowing what it is that makes up our being, we are beautiful. I can barely scratch the surface of what I see as beautiful, but I hope that what I'm trying to communicate makes sense. I, personally, deem vulnerability as a crucial aspect of beauty.
     Beauty is in the mind and the heart, everything you are on the outside is a mere reflection.

"For attractive lips, speak words of kindness.

For lovely eyes, seek out the good in people.

For a slim figure, share your food with the hungry.

For beautiful hair, let a child run his or her finger through it once a day.

For poise, walk with the knowledge that you will never walk alone."

~ Audrey Hepburn's beauty tips

     

Meditation, Sweet 16, Garage Sales, and Other Things That Do Not Match

     If you ask me, I have the best meditation spot in all of Utah. But, you didn't ask me, so...you can think you're spot is better. That's cool. 

My place of Zen. Not bad for a picture from my phone, eh?

     I went hiking today, if that wasn't already evident. Other than the fact that I forgot to take my joint medicine, it was quite relieving. Despite how much I don't like nature most of the time, it's nice to get out every once in a while. The desire to lay out a mat and do yoga 'till the sun set was so incredibly tempting. Really, that was the most delicious idea I'd had all day.                 

     Today's hike has made me so stoked for my "Sweet 16". If you don't already know my beef with Sweet 16's, I'll give you the basic spiel now. I simply don't understand what is so grand about turning 16. Congratulations, you can drive without your mom. So what?! When I turn 21, THEN we'll party, yeah? Yeah. Okay. Now you understand.

      My plans for my Sweet 16? We'll be starting our hike at 1:00 a.m. to ensure we get to the top by sunrise. Once at the top, yoga and meditation with the sunrise will follow suit. I'm a quirky child, I don't need you to tell me, I already know. I'd love to see someone with a better Sweet 16 than me (feel free to accept that challenge).  I'm so excited, you have no idea. 

      I hit up a garage sale this morning as well. After asking my mom for 50 cents (I'm broke, okay?), I purchased a lovely teddy bear. You're never too old for teddy bears, I don't care what anyone says. I still sleep with one (along with my other odd sleeping attire, but that's for a different post) and you probably do too. Stuffed animals are just things of joy, which is precisely why I plan on sleeping with one for the rest of my life. I want to hit up garage sales every Saturday morning. Who wants to drive me? 

Teddy Bear I purchased for 50 cents. Best deal ever.

      So, children, what have we learned today? Sweet 16's are the dumbest thing on earth (right under Snuggies), my meditation spot is better than yours, garage sales are the best (right above getting good grades), and teddy bears are your best friends (other than me). 

      Also, I really love parentheses (this is just in case you have noticed my latest obsession). 

Whit Happens

Sleeping 'Til 5, Getting Arrested, Hangovers, and Other Unspeakable Things

     I've been social of late. A little too social, if you know what I mean. I'm not sure if it's my hipster personality coming through, or if I just really don't like being in large groups of people, but I need a huge break after I participate in any social events. This last week of school has been more chaotic than the rest of the school year (which is saying a lot if you know my study habits). Surprisingly enough, it all began on Tuesday night, after finals.
     The last school dance of the year was on Tuesday and, because I've gone to maybe one other dance this year, I decided I'd go - for sentimental reasons, of course. After Cassy was 20 minutes late picking me up, we picked up Colton and went to Starbucks. We went through the numbers, making fun of each other, me telling Cassy she's going to be lynched by the gay community due to how frequently and how loosely she uses the term "faggot", etc. Y'know, the usual conversations. We then headed to the dance, showing up a solid 30 minutes late (because every fashionable person shows up this late). Upon walking in and arguing with Mrs. MacDuff that $2 was ridiculous for such a lax occasion, we paid and the dance failed to immediately captivate my attention. I always forget how much I hate going to dances until I get there. It's not even the people, or the music that rubs me the wrong way, it's the dancing. Can I just say, I am so sick of seeing the fist pump?! Honestly, can you just move a little bit? It's not that hard. Also, the circles. Stop! It's not a place to section off into your own little cliches, it's a dance. I dunno, maybe this is also my hipster side talking. Anyway...other than my complaints, I had a swell time. I danced a bit. Perhaps too much for my own good. I, unlike Willow Smith, cannot afford all of my chiropractic treatments. When Whip My Hair came on, I obviously whipped my hair! And, while I felt like a black woman, the violent whipping has torn every muscle in my neck. That is not an exaggeration. I'm still debating if being able to hold up my own head is really that important because, hey, I felt awesome when I whipped my hair. Oh, and no one else could crump so I'm afraid I had to show 'em how it's done. Overall, I'd say we had a splendid, neck snapping, back breaking, jolly, good time.
     Lupe Fiasco escorted us out of the Maeser parking lot after the dance (via speaker system) and we thought it'd be fun to stop at the mouth of Dry Canyon just to look at the lights of the valley. Y'know, asinine teenage stuff. Not so...according to Orem police. Evidently, we were out past curfew. Who knew it was 11?? Not me. Some rude guy with a badge was shining his flashlight in our faces while we sat in the car shaking. We should've been arrested. Really, we should have. I'm not sure why he let us go, but he did. He just told us to go home. He didn't even ask for Cassy's license and registration. Nothing. We sped out of that location crazy fast (without actually speeding) and screamed and laughed the whole way home. Mellow jams eased our troubled souls that night as we argued who we would call had we actually been arrested. That was a good  night, if I do say so myself.
     The next morning, I threw on some clothes, borrowed my mum's belt and went to school to endure my last day. After loudly vocalizing my complaints and irritations over all the criteria required to receive my yearbook, I hid from all the kids. I hate yearbook day. It's possibly the worst day of the entire year. I hate when kids I possibly had ONE class with and barely ONE conversation with ask to me to sign their yearbook. I'm too nice to tell them I don't know how to spell their name, and I don't care if I ever learn. What can I say? I usually scribble something that gives the illusion that I put thought into it. I hope none of them ever find my blog. I also hate that for those people I actually DO like, I want to write a novel in their yearbook, going down the list of inside jokes, the trouble we've been in, the hilarity that's ensued from our idiocy, and all the cracks in between. The level of my social awkwardness is incontrovertible when one sees how few signatures are in my yearbook. I think I came up with a total of twelve, four of which were from teachers. On the plus side, not a single person wrote H.A.G.S. which is a huge accomplishment for me. Sometimes I wonder how often I end up as the annoying kid who asks for signatures from kids who don't know me. I decided that I absolutely would not be that kid this year, and I wasn't, so I'm satisfied.
      Almost everything after yearbook signing is a blur. Cassy, Colton, and myself grabbed guitars and went back up the canyon and sat around, talked, and jammed. We may have fallen asleep too...or maybe that was later. I don't remember. We sat in the trunk and laughed while watching the crazy valley below. It's peaceful up there. I'd be more than happy if I wasted away my entire summer sitting up there, being perfectly content, writing in my annoying little notebook, and throwing things at Colton. Eventually, we had to come down and change into our uniforms to go to graduation. We were an hour late to graduation (because, again, every fashionable person is late). It was very hustle bustle. We drove to Cassy's to print out directions to get to graduation, then to Colton's house so he could change, I changed in the car, and then, feeling a lot less pimpin' in my polo, we drove to graduation. No one cried, as far as we could tell, so we promptly left with Lupe leading the way once again. We drove all around for the rest of the day. We went back to Colton's house, changed clothes, then up the canyon, then Harmons, then Cassy's, then back up the canyon, then back to Cassy's, then to Harmons again, and then Cassy's, and finally 7:30 came around and we went to a graduate party.
     People around here use the term "party" very loosely. This was more of a social gathering in someone's backyard. It started at 7, we showed up at 7:30 (this time because I almost died by eating Wasabe sauce plain). Greene Rollins was the DJ and we were subjected to a poor speaker system. So, we drove back to Colton's house to get big ones. (You see what I mean when I say we drove everywhere??) We sat around at this party for a while, basking in our social awkwardness, then went to Ripley's with Jack Anderson where he bought a toy and asked for a job application to be a cashier. This goes to show how awkward we all are. We would've rather been at a nearby grocery store, wandering aimlessly, buying toys, and getting job applications than be at a party. I really don't know why I even try anymore. After 30 minutes of trying to enjoy ourselves, we headed back to the canyon. Conversations up there are probably the best ones I have. Have you ever had one of those content silences? Not awkward, but one where everyone is just happy to be there? I'm known to interrupt these, and it's not by talking. My pocket screams to notify me of a text and these uncanny vibrations just seem to mess up everything. Or, in my case, I don't think it ruined the silence, I think it gave it more character.
     At around 11:30, I made it home. I had been gone for easily 15 hours, if not more and I collapsed from exhaustion. Thursday morning my mum made me get up at 11. I think I stayed awake for maybe an hour or two and fell back asleep on my couch. I finally woke up at 5 in the afternoon. This is one of the prime examples of why I am not a social person. My body can't handle it! Wilson, Tim, and Kenzie came over and said I looked like I was on a hangover. Leave it to your friends to be perfectly honest. Because I felt so trashy (and didn't look very good either), we put on a trashy photoshoot which you can view here.
      Now I'm feeling a little more classy, a little less social, and everything else that is entirely normal for me. I think I'm going to go play in a lake, climb a mountain, record some music, and take more pictures. Life is good, but I guarantee more Whit is soon to Happen.  

Ellie Goulding - Lights

Just admit it, we've all tried that little hip shake and failed.

Super Senior...Yes? No? Maybe?

Remember that whole 30 day challenge? Yeah, me neither.

I'll pick it up again when summer begins. It's not that I haven't had anything to blog about; I've had  a lot to say, I just haven't had the time. I shouldn't say that I don't have the time. I do, I just make excuses to not blog. If it's any consolation, I have a long, long list of potential blog posts saved in my drafts. I'll get around to them eventually. For now, I'm stopping the challenge. There's too much going on for my blog to be my first priority: such as school.

School is insane, but I love it. I used to say that I always felt that I needed to graduate this year. Perhaps I said that because I have a lot of friends who are graduating and moving away this year. I have a slight fear of being left alone. That's a lie, it's a huge fear. I felt that I needed to graduate or I'd lose contact with everyone who's leaving. Admittedly, I think that will happen with most of them. How unfortunate. Regardless, my perspective has changed a little bit. My friend, Emily, and I are seriously considering being Super Seniors: someone who stays an extra year in high school. Essentially, it's repeating the 12th grade. We were talking about it today and we could organize our schedules so that we barely don't have enough credits to graduate and then take both high school classes and college classes during our last year. I don't know, is it a bad idea? I really think it'd be better for both of us, especially considering how we seem to be the ONLY ONES WHO ARE PLANNING ON PAYING FOR COLLEGE! What the heck? We've talked to so many kids whose parents have their college paid for. Yeah, that's a great way to prepare your kid for the real world. Anyway, I'm just looking for feedback. I view it as a way to give yourself just an extra year to save for college and prepare. Others view it as a fear of moving on, which I'm not, I just think it'd be fun. Am I just going through a phase? I don't know. What do you think? I have a lot of time to think it over. I guess we'll see.

Sorry this post is so poorly written. I'm just vomiting my train of thought onto a keyboard and making it somewhat legible. I'll do better next time.

Pinky promise.