Maddie writes conversationally? ;)

It's been a while and I'm real sorry about that. I've been doing more reading than writing. I seem to cycle that way. When I really write I need to be feeling terribly antisocial so I can hole up in some corner. (Today that is an empty Union Board office.) But when I read I fill my brain with new and exciting ideas to share with you.

New Glasses

Today I woke up early to get ready. I have new glasses by the way! So I was up, and I was singing, because I like to sound less like a diesel truck on a gravel road when I open my mouth to someone else. Lately I've been singing "The Parting Glass" by The Wailin' Jennys. Suggested by Ellen, a camp friend. I want to bring it together for something. For what? I'm not sure. But I miss performing. I want to sing.

And as I was singing by myself, wishing for someone to sing the alto part, I realized I was pretty content by myself right then. This doesn't seem like a big revelation, but it is for me. I've always been an extreme extrovert; at least I thought I was. I'm starting to question that. I think I'm more of a talking machine and I'm an external processor. My own insecurities have called me to question myself constantly. Are these shoes cool? Would someone be offended if I tweeted this? Is this too dorky? I needed someone to reassure me. For the longest time I never let anyone read my writing.

But being the external processor I was, I still wrote it like I was talking to someone. I know, Maddie writes conversationally?! What?! Anyway, the older I've gotten, the less fucks I've given, and the less company has been a necessity.  I talk to myself a little more deeply. I've been too afraid to consider my own personality, my uniqueness, and my interpersonal skills (they're often awkward at best). And the more I accept them, the less I really need company. I keep company because I'm interested in people, but that creates a completely different dynamic in my friendships. I don't need friends to talk to; I need friends to talk to me. I've been reading, because I need books to talk to me. I need to find myself in books. They're the best friends.

And this semester has been kind to my new-found sensibilities. My homework is reading. Reading, reading, reading. And I do some on my own, because I'm learning so much about humanity. They're things I need to know about why people get their hearts broken, and why bad things happen to good people. And I suppose no one really knows. No one has the answers, but everyone has ideas, and these ideas make me feel less alone in my quest for understanding.

Being alone doesn't make me scared anymore. I'm never really alone. I'm not alone if I have a book. I'm never alone if I have myself, because there are certainly things I've haven't learned about me yet, and that is just as important as the knowledge I have gained from my friends.

Peace.

I can't fix this world, but if I'm dying anyway, then I will die trying.

After the shooting in Connecticut, I didn't want to post hastily about gun control and mental health and the shallowness of people on Facebook and Twitter about the whole tragedy. I didn't want to write insensitively about something so painful, so real when the child who is most precious to me is in kindergarten now. I didn't want to write with a reactive vendetta for all the wrongs in this world. I've done that before, and there are consequences for thoughtlessness. But I've had time to sort through those feelings, and I'm as ready as I'll ever be to speak about it.

Tanglewood Press has made a really beautiful statement with the help of a Connecticut mom and Audrey Penn. Go to the link to be a part of that.
That whole project inspired me from speechless disbelief to hopeful action. The only way to confront Evil is the produce Good. "Be the change you want to see in the world," right? But I feel only a hate that I don't even try to drive away when those bastards at Westboro Baptist capitalize on people's pain. But the public support gathered to block their idiot cries trying to make their statement of hate gave me hope. Hope has been in short supply lately. (Quite literally, as the One Hope United employees will tell you. My mom collects hope trinkets and ornaments that are only sold this time of year among peace and love items. But for some reason, in cruel irony, the have been nearly impossible to find this year.)

But I found it.

I've looked to the things that make me feel better. I paid for the guy behind me in the drive-thru at Starbucks today--a guy in a piece of shit car, smoking a cigarette, and petting a cat sitting on the console. That made me feel better. Being a part of giving those kids at One Hope the best fucking Christmas of their lives... that made me feel better. It's not that I'm a saint or anything. I'm doing this to prove to myself that enough Good will drive out Evil. The generosity of those who donated to One Hope brought on a regular flood of tears. It's as if those people were doing what I was doing--they were proving to themselves that the world doesn't suck. The world has been acting shitty lately, you know? But even with the lack of hope, in the way that I sought hope, so have so many others. Among Mom's gifts from coworkers, hope was bountiful. It was nearly, but not quite impossible to find.

That's my sweater, bitch ;)

When a mom smacks her kid in Wal Mart, Kayla is tickling the piss out of Julian. For every child (and parent) at Sandy Hook, The Kissing Hand will provide much needed comfort. There is plenty of Evil in the world. Plenty, plenty. But there are good, good people. And we can make a difference. You don't have to save all the starving children in Africa to do that, though. You can just wrap presents for kids who don't have a family to spend the holiday with. You can help out at a soup kitchen (props to Noah), and you can forgive that dude that cut you off on your way to work.

I just read John Green's The Fault in Our Stars (you can stop judging me for dropping the ball on reading. I'm catching up, okay?) and I finished it in a night. I stayed up past my self-designated bedtime to finish it, sobbing alone in my room. The world is trying to prove its fragility to me. Hazel Grace is telling me, Connecticut is telling me, Hurricane Sandy is telling me... You can't turn on the television (something I gave up a long time ago) without those images forcing themselves into your conscious. The Fault in Our Stars hit me hard, probably because I'm already in an estrogen-induced, emotional break down, but it knocked me on my ass. Hazel is me if I were dying. Which, she would point out, I am. But if I was made more aware of my dying, I think I would be a lot like Hazel. Or maybe I have a flawed view of myself--I tend to judge others more accurately than myself. But in her voice I heard myself. Fragility. That's the word ringing in my head. I'm living a very fragile life. There's only a few cancerous tumors between Hazel Grace and I. There's only a few states between my precious babies and Sandy Hook. I can't fix this world, but if I'm dying anyway, then I will die trying.

I was sick before.

But now I'm really sick.

Light Saber Fights and Burned Cookies

Before finals started, I got up to some shennanigans with my friends, because that's how you make memories, duh. I finally got to see my lovely Mikayla, and introduce her to the amazing Shannon, and now they are friends. As they should be. We tried to make cookies. And some of them were okay. But there was an extra-special-awesome batch that we made too!

On an completely unrelated note, Shannon totally asked me if she was holy enough to wear that Waycross shirt. Which, if you know me is funny for about 40 reasons. But the one you don't know... is that's not my shirt. I'm still not sure to whom it belongs.

Kind of staged reaction... but remarkably accurate. Also. You can kind of see the smoke, which is awesome.

All together now! Oh. And that hat says SWAG.

So, in the midst of finals, I'm starting to feel sick. My throat is sore and I'm sneezing in a way that draws the grumpy attention of already-pissed college students studying in the library. It's not like I want to sneeze asshole. And I glare just as grumpily back, because I've lived in this library for a semester, and they're in my territory now. I own this joint. Shannon gets 50% of the rent I'll be collecting off the bitches on our couches. It was due to all this bull shit that I chose to study at The Coffee Grounds last night with my German classmates. Also, there's cool graffiti and good music (most of the time). The study party was hit and miss (surprisingly, since I thought more people would be crying pitifully over their failed adjective ending quizzes that he mercifully allowed us to take a total of three times). The only downside? I didn't get to see ISU's Stress Relieving Penguin, Bunny, and Bear.

Here's the bunny and penguin... the bear was sick, I think.

I gave up studying near the end. When all my classmates had left for one reason or another, I stayed for a while with Shannon, still trying to cram little bits into my overloaded brain. Then I gave up. Shannon needed earbuds, so I drove us to Wal Mart. The ride was exciting with a possibly drunk driver ahead of us (or just momentarily distracted). When we got there, I re-remembered that I had to pee. I made Shannon come with me because GIRLS DON'T PEE ALONE, DAMMIT. I walk in to chaos. It's already kind of unfortunate because it's a Wal Mart Bathroom . But this was was a special kind of awful. A mom and grandma were trying to use the bathroom and the little boy they had left unattended was opening their stalls to their loud curses and commands. I locked my door carefully for fear that he may mistake my stall for his grandma's. Shannon said urgently "Maddie, hurry up in there." And that I did. And while the mom lectured the little boy about hand-washing (I'm convinced entirely for our sake), we skimped up outta there. No hand-washing involved. Who washes their hands for pee, anyway? That shit sterile.

STERILE, I TELL YOU!

So. I don't know if you know this, but the earbuds are pretty near the toy aisle. You know what's in the toy aisle? Light sabers. That's right. Shannon and I fought to the imaginary death. I died of course. In my defense, the beast is a martial arts minor. I stood no chance. I got a picture of her that clearly represented triumph. It was soon her profile picture and got a bajillion likes which is awesome, because in the 21st century, that is how we measure success: the number of likes on our profile pictures. (See the badassery below.)

"INSERT AWESOME STAR WARS QUOTE HERE!" (In all caps)

I got some studying out of the way--I still have no clue how that final went today. It is what it is and I'm so glad that what it is is over. Ugh. I did have time to deliver my presents to favorite professors. :) I know. I'm adorable. I made cookies for my choir director as well--but she wasn't there to receive them. I decided to write my name on the Tupperware for two reasons 1) I didn't want her to think someone else was poisoning her. 2) She needed to know it was I who was returning the music so I could get credit. Of course, that was the order of consideration in my brain. I was more afraid she'd think I was poisoning her than would think I still hadn't returned my music. Thinking back, though, I'm pretty sure that my music was numbered--duh. So I guess the first reason remains the only real reason to have taken the cookie credit.

I'm being ramble-y.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=htTLWC1unMc

Moving on. Now that my big finals are out of the way, and my worrying has developed into the kind where distraction is actually a good thing, I've returned to my to-read list. I finished The Giver by Lois Lowry. Thoughts are, I'm not sure how I hadn't read that as a kid. Childishly, I'm almost positive the reason I kept not reading it was because I didn't like the cover; also I didn't like books about boys unless it was Harry Potter. However, I won't complain too much because if I'd read it in 5th grade or so, I'd have denied my current, 19 year-old self the privilege to read a book that wouldn't have actually been that remarkable to me at the time. Oh, I'm sure I would have loved it then, too, but it can't be denied that my grown-up (sorta) brain got way more out of it than I would have. So... I get the hype. This is like The Hunger Games lecture all over again. I GET IT. I'M CATCHING UP NOW, THANKS.

Now that I've finished it, I'm reading Jasper Fforde's The Eyre Affair. I've wanted to read this book for some time. First, I loved Jane Eyre (even though I wanted to hate it), and it's been on the book shelves in my house for a looooong time. Secondly, Fforde. It's so amusing that his name is spelled that way. Is that his real name? I could totally look it up on Wikipedia, but that seems like something not worth doing. Nahhh. Okay, I did it. I'm pretty sure that's his real name. The page leaves much to be desired, however. I'm sure that he's had a much more interesting life than all that.

I'm wearing a watch today. I took it off to type, however. Tick, tock, the library's a clock.

Also. Worth mentioning. To cheer me up today, Zac told me a story about an old man who walked into his dealership, said "I smell a democrat," and walked back out. I hope that makes you happy too.

More sill-sitting, and book suggestions?

I was doing so badly. I was so, so tired. I was lacking motivation. And then I was all, "I haven't taken my meds in a week." Oh. So I took my meds today, and today has been exponentially better. I've actually had a shitty day, but I've felt pretty decently about it. I had to get up at 6:00 for Fusion practice at 7:00 a.m. No big deal. The bottoms of my pants got wet in the giant puddle that is Indiana State. Who cares? Root Hall was bordering on subzero Fahrenheit. Could be worse. I forgot my car keys in my room so I had to backtrack about 5 minutes, wasting a total of 10 minutes. Okay. That kind of pissed me off. But isn't that a normal thing to be pissed off about? Hating the sun for rising is kind of abnormal, I think. But trudging in the grossness and cold to get my keys was understandably frustrating. But I recovered nicely. I even took a minute to change pants and pee out my two cups of cranberry juice (I seriously have a thing for cranberry juice lately) since I was already in my room.

Finals are fast approaching, friends. I simply cannot believe this is dead week. It's not all that dead for me, unfortunately with my performance at the Pacers game tomorrow and the Showcase on Friday, but my usual meetings are cancelled which gives me a little time to rest. I haven't been all that productive. But I genuinely believe that's all to do with my neglect of my meds for so incredibly long. Hopefully I'll start to make better time of my empty spaces.

I'm pretty stinking excited for the Waycross Staff Reunion. It's been on my mind since it was mentioned at the end of the summer. I didn't get to go last year. I had a blast in Chicago with my family, but I sorely missed the people I worked with. This year, I have managed to see far more of them, but I miss them even more. I just didn't have the same relationships my first summer working as I did this past summer. These are my people. And I get to see them again!

I need a new book by the way. I read 5 books in November, and I'm challenging myself to 5 books in December. I'm looking for a YA book that's a little lighter, relatively short, and funny. I need a little funny in my life right now. Suggestions?

So. This post was on the verge of word vomit. So here's the summary.

• I was getting really sad and realized I hadn't been taking my meds. Fixed!
• This is a crazy two weeks for me. BLEH!
• I need book suggestions.
• I'm still pretty much on the sill. I was looking outside a little too much, but I checked myself before I caused a car wreck down there.

My Good Reads review of Ashfall

I'm not going to summarize it. You can read the preview if you click on the book. This is more of a personal response than a review.

I had forgotten how much I love YA. This book started off with an unfortunate event, and things worsened in an increasingly realistic line of disaster. That realism was definitely my favorite part. It was so incredibly POSSIBLE, that it was all the more terrifying. I found myself trying to feel everything they felt along with them. Mike just about did that for me with his intricate (but most importantly, readable) descriptions.
On that note: I've always loved survival books--I think because I hope I'd be that strong if I were plopped in, say, the Red Zone of a super-volcano eruption. It had been a while since I'd actually read a really good survival book like this, though. And now that I'm (slightly) more mature, it was far more emotionally exhausting than if I'd read Ashfall in junior high or high school.
I can relate to Darla and Alex in ways I couldn't have before. It's easier to imagine my own heartaches intensified than it is to try to imagine that feeling initially. There's another argument for adults to read YA!
Also... DARLA! I love her. Now ...that's a heroine I can get behind. She is tough, tough, tough, but she has an impressive capacity for love and compassion. And Alex? I haven't read a more likable hero since Harry Potter. He changes so dramatically over the course of the book, but the change is subtle. His transition into adulthood caught me by surprise.

I love, loved it. I cannot wait to stick my nose in Ashen Winter (OVER THANKSGIVING BREAK!) I can't believe it took me this long to pick up! I'd convinced myself I didn't have time. But if you really love a book, and you fall in love with those characters, and they're in constant danger!... then you make the time. Thank you, Mike Mullin for reminding me of that.

NOW IN PAPERBACK!

Proof and the Pursuit of Happiness

I was talking to a little girl a few nights ago. (I guess high school isn't so little, but I remember teaching her dance as a much younger, little girl. I'll call her what I want.) She's the product of a very hard life and a lack of those survival skills required to get her needs met. And now she's coming to me to help her. I want to give her Waycross. I want to make her feel important and tell her that she's more than capable to be better than she is right now. I want to give her the world. I want her to change and come to me someday with a degree and whatever else she wants out of life. A wife, kids, a healthy, happy life... whatever it is. I want things to be better for her than they were for her parents. I want her to beat the odds. Her sister, whom I love dearly, has done that. She is a brilliant woman.

But.

It doesn't really matter what I want. It matters what she wants. And she is denying herself the right to want it. The pursuit of happiness, if you will. She's so scared that she won't have all those things, that she's given up. I do have some small hope, however. She contacted me. Why would she call me and tell me all the bad things she's doing if she didn't want me to tell her what to do in order to be better. She didn't text me to tell me she wasn't going to be anything (although that's what she did). She texted me to tell me she wanted help. She just doesn't know how to ask for it. Is this my new project? Is this little girl going to be mine now? Am I going to subject myself to heartbreak if (and when) this doesn't yield immediate results, or work even in the long run? But I feel like I have to try. She's reaching out to me, and I can't shut her down. I just can't. And this is what I want to do with my life. I want to prove to girls like her that it's not wrong to hope. It's possible to be something different. That's the career I'm looking at right now, and I have to get used to that heartbreak. It will come--and in a way I need to prove to myself I'm capable surviving that.

Proof. I need to prove to myself that I can make a good enough argument to prove to the children I love that they are worthy of the pursuit of happiness. Mission statement?

Intervention of the soul.