Check It Out

My lifelong friend, Tyler Bardzilowski, created this remix for a competition. Check it out and help him win!

http://zedd.amplifiertv.com/channel/TBARDZ

Wise Why's

I understand most of the people whom I am close to in my life. I know them well enough to be able to interpret the things that they do or say and why they do or say them. I understand who they are and the way they work and I can adapt accordingly. This knowledge is not necessarily boring per say, but it is not fascinating either. Most of these people are simple enough to explain with a few sentences and I can discern almost exactly who they are without difficulty.

But there are some people in this world that, if you are lucky enough to stumble across, will enchant you. They will be so incredibly different from anyone you have ever known and they will stimulate conversation that you never realized you could be a part of. They will say things and ask you questions that will guide you through the depths of your mind that you did not even know existed.

I have come across one such person in my life and she has been a dear friend of mine for years. We don't have too many things in common besides the fact that we love to write and we both used to play volleyball, but that is the beauty of our friendship: we make each other think; we open up spaces in each other's minds that no one else has opened before.

This friend of mine asks me generic questions that anyone could ask in order to get to know the things that I like. For example, she asks me, "what is your favorite color?" But instead of just simply nodding her head after I answer that my favorite color is blue, she asks me, "why?" She does not just ask me what I am studying in school but she asks me why I want to attend college in the first place. She asks me what I am passionate about and why. She asks me that if there was one thing I could do in the whole world without any outside factors affecting it what it would be. She tells me that she loves looking out at the city lights and that she purposely flies on airplanes at night so that she can look down upon the world aglow. She asks me to tell her my life story. She shares with me what she believes to be the meaning of life.

With no one else do I have these conversations. No one else asks me these uninhibitted questions about life and the world and myself. She does not simply want to know the facts about me, she wants to know why these aspects intrigue me, daunt me, and mold me into who I am. It is people like these who fascinate me because their minds are so complex and always reeling and wanting to learn about life and people. They always are coming up with questions and ideas that seize me and intrigue me incomparably.  I desperately want to take a peek inside their thoughts and understand how they think because I really do believe that these are the kind of people who have the right idea about life.

I think in life we too often forget to concern ourselves with the why's of each and every day. We are so focused on what is happening, where it is taking place, when it is beginning and ending, and who will be there. We weigh the situation we are in, where we need to be at a certain point in our lives, the estimated time in which we will achieve our goals, and who will help us achieve them. Living life this way just makes every day boring, bland, and seem like a habitual routine instead of living in awe of the magnificence of life and all of the riveting wonders that exist around us. Understanding the basic facts of our every day lives is important and necessary, but it should not be our focus.

We should be asking ourselves "why" much more often than we do. Because asking ourselves why we do things or want things or feel a drive to achieve things makes us formulate and understand the reasons that we feel these things are necessary in the first place. And if we cannot come up with any reasons why, then maybe they aren't necessary after all.

Why's create depth and meaning to our lives. Ask yourself why you chose to wear those specific clothes today. Ask yourself why you chose the profession that you did. Ask yourself why you continue to have a relationship with your best friend. Ask yourself why you do not have a great relationship with your sister. Ask yourself why you had that strange dream the night before. Ask yourself why roses are your favorite flower. Ask yourself why you prefer winter to summer. Ask yourself why cheesecake is your favorite dessert. Ask yourself why you love the ocean. Ask yourself why you feel happy.

These why's will lead you to discover spaces in your mind that have been laying dormant for much too long. These questions will help you to learn things about yourself and about life. They will make you realize what truly makes you happy, brings you joy, and makes you absolutely love being alive.

Places and People That Humble Your Heart

Vacations are a great way to spend quality time with family, to take a break from reality, and to even get a new perspective on life. Although it’s exciting to to visit places that are devoted to the glamours and luxuries of life like Hawaii or New York, I find it much more beneficial to travel to places that have more humble and homely cultures.

A year and a half ago, my family and I took a trip to La Fortuna, Costa Rica over spring break. This was my second time visiting Costa Rica and I absolutely fell in love with the tropical climate, the easygoing lifestyle, and the natural beauty of the country. During this second trip, we stayed in a hotel in the Chachagua Rainforest called the Chachagua Rainforest Hotel. And I can say without a doubt that this hotel was the most unique place I have ever stayed. In order to get to the hotel, we had to drive for fifteen minutes on an unpaved, dirt road deep into the rainforest. When we finally arrived, we saw a pool straight ahead, lodges to our left, and a barn and stables to our right. In fact, this hotel was a farm as well. Guests staying there woke up in the depths of the rainforest surrounded by tropical animals as well as domestic farm animals. One morning during our stay, my family and I woke up and walked down to the barn and each of us milked one of the cows and another morning we watched a mother pig give birth to eight piglets. We were given a tour of the surrounding area of the hotel on horseback by day and a tour of the pitch-black abyss of the forest to spot the more elusive animals with our flashlights by night. This hotel seemed as if it was its own little world because it was so reserved and hidden within the rainforest. The remoteness was all-encompassing and while we stayed there, I almost completely forgot about the world outside of our forest haven and became absolutely entranced by the serene paradise I was in.

My family and I didn’t spend all of our time relaxing at our hotel, however. We experienced many things, such as a natural springs that the locals frequented which were located underneath a road overpass that has a rope swing to propel yourself into the water with, hiking to a waterfall and swimming in the lagoon it cascaded into, and even petting a wild, sleeping sloth. These experiences were all the more beneficial to me because I speak Spanish and understand the language well, and being able to communicate with the locals in their language was intensely gratifying. The shock and appreciation they expressed to me because a blonde, caucasian girl from the states was able to interact with them was invigorating, and the feeling it brought me was addicting.

All of these excursions were incredible, but my favorite experience from this vacation by far was the most unexpected of them all. About halfway into our trip, my family and I visited an orphanage in the city of La Fortuna. The orphanage was kept secret because the women who ran it did not want the parents of the children to find them in fear that they would try to reclaim their children and bring them into an unhealthy, neglectful environment. We found out about the orphanage because my dad contacted a woman who was from the United States who had moved to Costa Rica and helped out at the orphanage and she set up a date and time that we could come and visit.

The outside of the orphanage was vibrant, each wall painted different colors of oranges, pinks, blues, and greens. The inside contained three rooms: a sitting room, a kitchen, and a game room, and each were about the size of a public restroom. Upon arrival, the three women in charge of running the orphanage greeted us in Spanish and led us into the backyard which was full of children playing on a rickety jungle gym and running around on withering grass. My family and I had brought a suitcase full of toys with us to give to the children and as soon as they spotted us, they all came running over, screaming Spanish words of delight. In desperate need of love and attention, the children latched onto our legs, our feet, our arms, and even our hair. “Quiero jugar contigo!” they shrieked- I want to play with you! Some of the girls quickly led me into the game room and asked me to color pictures with them and played with my hair. I asked them questions in Spanish, wanting to know their names, their ages, their favorite foods, what they liked to do. They were so excited to have someone to give them their undivided attention; they were overjoyed to have someone new to talk to and play with.

I tried to give my attention to each and every one of those children within that short hour that we were there, but there was one boy in particular who I took a special interest in and who latched onto me solely instead of trying to get a sense of each of the new visitors. His name was Santiago and he was four years old and to this day, my heart yearns for him. When I first knelt down and began to speak to him, he was holding a small rubber snake that had been one of the contents of the suitcase filled with trinkets. I saw that he had some kind of wound on his arm that had swelled up to the size of my fist and I asked him if it hurt. But that little boy didn’t care about his wound, his circumstances, or even that one of the other boys was trying to steal the rubber snake out of his hand; all he wanted was for me to hold him and never put him down. For the duration of my stay at the orphanage, I held Santiago. I cradled him on my hip and felt my heart melt when I made him smile and I held him on my back and pretended I was a “caballo” and was overcome with such tenderness for him when I heard him laugh.

Seeing the joy on that little boy’s face as I played with him in that run-down, old yard brought a depth to my life that I had never previously known. Being able to care for him for that short hour was one of the most transformative experiences of my life. And watching the smile fade from his face from behind the bars of the orphanage as my family and I drove away was the first time that my heart ever broke for another person. At sixteen, I had never experienced such an extraordinary and profound love for a child, and I wanted more than anything to adopt him as my own right then and there and take him away from that place. He deserved so much more and I so desperately wanted to give that sweet little boy the world.

That four-year-old Costa Rican boy changed my life. I think about Santiago all the time and each time I do, I cannot help but cry lavishly. I find myself constantly wondering where he is now, if he is being treated well, if he is happy and loved. My heart aches to know that he is ok. But to my dismay, Santiago is probably lost to me forever. I can only hope that he has been adopted by a family who loves and cares for him and gives him everything he needs. I will wish forever that I could have given him that.

It's great to be able to embark on a relaxing getaway and escape the everyday struggles of life. But a vacation makes all the difference when you can go somewhere that humbles your heart. Getting away is that much more incredible when you can experience a place and meet a person that changes you for the better and transforms you forever.

The California Bubble

For these last eighteen years of my life, I have always lived in California. California- where the girls walk around in shorts and tank tops in December and the boys surf at 6:00 a.m. in January. We get about a ten degree variance in our weather year-round and the only way anyone is really able to tell that it's winter is when the clear-cupped, iced Starbucks coffee drinks in every doting hand transform into the red Christmas cups adorned with cardboard sleeves.

Now that I have escaped the California bubble and am experiencing what is it's like to live in a place that actually has seasons like the majority of the rest of the country, I feel awake. I wake up to snow every morning. I have to get up in the middle of the night to close my window so that I don't wake up to a puddle of water at the foot of my bed. I leave home wearing two pairs of pants, a sweater, a sweatshirt, a heavy jacket, a scarf, a beanie, long socks, boots, and mittens. I have to decide whether or not it's worth it to trek through the snow to get myself food. My eyes must be glued to the ground at all times while walking so that I don't slip on the ice and break my tailbone.

Now that I have escaped the California bubble and am in the middle of this bitter winter, it irks me when I log onto Facebook and see people back home complaining about the "cruel sixty degree weather" and about how they can't "take their kids to the beach." Girls are brought to tears by the fact that they have to actually wear clothes on more than 30% of their body so they don't get goosebumps that will ruin their freshly shaven legs. Men throw their hands up in defeat because they have to decide if they want to risk wearing shorts and a T-shirt to work.

There have been news reports in which the reporters are actually concerned about the fifty degree weather and saying that "it might snow if the temperature drops even just a little bit more." They feel that they can justify that it is cold outside because the "leaves are blowing all around and the trees are swaying." They complain that the cold is "not only affecting people, it's affecting crops," as they hold up two oranges that they found on the ground in the parking lot of a shopping center. Apparently it was so excruciating that "customers at Starbucks were choosing the drive-through, as warm beverage after warm beverage was handed out."  One reporter even reports that, "you can see we have a bit of a breeze here, as you can see my hair is blowing around, the leaves are blowing around behind me so that can cause you some problems here this morning."

Really, people? You live in paradise. You see a cloudy sky maybe fifteen days out of the year. The temperature never drops below 45 degrees. And you are complaining that the "leaves are blowing" and that you have to go through the drive-through at Starbucks? It makes me want to literally blow up the entire state.

Granted, when I lived back home I complained about living there all the time. I could not wait to leave home behind. I couldn't stand any of the people from my high school, I hated the consistency of the weather, and I wanted to experience something new and different. I was counting down the days until graduation by the time I had started my sophomore year of high school. And now that I am experiencing these people, this weather, this place, all I want to do is go back home. All I want is the comfort of my old friends, the familiarity of my family, the consistency of the weather. I want it all back.

I enjoy being an adult, but I hate the responsibility. I love being on my own, but I hate the loneliness of it. I like not having anyone looking over my shoulder and telling me what to do and when to do it, but I hate that I don't feel in control.

I want it all back. Just to be back in that bubble again...where my biggest worry was whether it was going to be 70 degrees when I stepped outside or 65. Where my biggest decision was if I should order an iced coffee at Starbucks or a hot one. Oh, what I wouldn't give to be back in that bubble again.

Puddles and Oceans

We have so many people in our lives, so many names to remember, so many faces that we must recognize. We have to store information about all of these people and about each of their lives in our brains as identifiers so that when we come in contact with them, we can ask them the necessary relevant questions and respond with the necessary relevant answers. We have to wrack our brains to come up with topics to talk about or gossip about or rave about in order to create conversation. We have to smile and make eye contact and when asked how we are we must reply with "I am good," or "I am great," instead of how we actually are. Because most of our relationships are shallow and never reach any deeper than the surface. These people know our names, our faces, and our basic genetic makeup. But they are completely unaware of our passions, our hearts, our souls, what makes us tick, the things that make us feel alive.

We keep people at a distance. Maybe it's because we feel unwilling to share these deeper aspects of our lives. Maybe it's because we are afraid of being judged. Maybe it's because we lack trust. But the majority of our relationships are trivial and superficial. For instance, I only text the girl in my Communications class when I have a question about a homework assignment. I only say "hi" to the girl who lives down the hall when we pass by each other in the bathroom. I only ask the barista at Starbucks how their day is going when there is an awkward lull in the exchange process because the cash register is stalling, and even then I don't really tune in to their response because the question was not posed to provoke an answer, it was meant to fill a silent space.

Because of the superficiality of these relationships, I am always nice and cordial. I am never mean or rude to these people unless they give me a reason to be, which they hardly ever do because they feel the shallowness of the relationship as well and they don't want to plunge into the depths of who I am just as much as I feel no desire to dive into the abyss of who they are. We're comfortable merely tip-toeing into the puddle of a person, not immersing ourselves into the ocean that makes them so much more.

But when it comes to the deeper relationships that I have, everything changes. I not only know their names and their faces but I know the innermost parts of them. I know the things in their pasts that have shaped them. I know what makes them jealous. I know how to push their buttons. I know how to make them laugh. I know when they need a hug. I know their secrets. I understand the roller coaster craziness of what makes them who they are as opposed to just knowing the blissful merry-go-round of fake smiles and rhetorical questions of the people in my other relationships.

However, knowing this subaqueous information somehow gives me the excuse to be rude, harsh, and even cruel to these people whom I love. Why is this? Why do we have to be so amiable and polite to the people we know nothing about but we find it acceptable to be so incredibly venomous and vindictive to those we love the most?

We never say what we really think to those we could care less about. We never express how we really feel to those we have a purely passing relationship with. But if we're angry, we will release our deepest rage upon our parents. If we're jealous, we will spew poisonous words across states to reach our significant other's ears. If we feel cornered, we will unleash our claws upon our friends with nasty put-downs and insulting comments.

It's a shame, really, that we can hurl so much abuse upon the people we love. It's terrible but, at the same time, it can also open our eyes so we can recognize the people who really, truly care about us and love us. Because if we can express what we really think and feel to a person, even if it is horrible and despicable beyond belief, and they stick around despite how badly the words wounded them or unnerved them, then we know that the relationship is true. We know that we can trust them to stay by us no matter what. It is not through our words of love and affection and devotion that we can surely know a person's loyalty, but rather through the instances when a person stands by us through our most ugly, repulsive, and undoubtedly honest moments.

Perceptions of "right and wrong"

I find myself so unsure about so many things: what I should do; which path I should take; who my real friends are; if I'm doing the right thing; if I'm giving the right advice; how I really feel; what my opinions actually are; who I really am. I have self-confidence but sometimes I lack self-assurance. I can speak my mind and tell the truth and express how I feel, but sometimes I hold back. Maybe it's because I fear rejection. Maybe it's because I am afraid of judgement. Maybe I am tentative to come to a set conclusion because I fear that others won't agree.

This may stem from my childhood. My parents often frequented their own opinions about the world and people and politics and I listened, soaking it all in as the gospel truth. As I grew, perhaps I began to question their beliefs and started to formulate my own. But I never voiced them; I never shared them in fear of creating an argument. Or maybe it was in fear that they would view me differently. Maybe it was because I just wanted to keep these opinions to myself.

But my silence about the world and people and politics has turned into passiveness. Sometimes I don't know what I believe. And most days I see the world in shades of grey instead of permanent black and white. I believe that cheating is wrong. But what if a woman cheats on her husband because he beats her and she just wants to experience some semblance of feeling with someone else? Are her actions justified because she has been treated unjustly? I think that people should not steal. But should we punish a homeless, starving child for stealing a candy bar from the shelf of a grocery store? Do we just turn the child away empty-handed and not give them a second thought? I feel that abortion is a sad and terrible thing. But what if a woman is assaulted and raped and she becomes pregnant with her rapist's baby? Is it acceptable to judge her for terminating her pregnancy when the alternative is giving birth to a child whose existence would be an upsetting reminder of her rape?

People have such strong beliefs and opinions about what they feel is morally "right and wrong" when really, who even knows for sure what is? Who defines "right" and "wrong" and their limitations? People can sit in a room and argue all day about their perceptions of the world but no two people will ever agree absolutely. There will always be a catch, a "but," a grey area.

Maybe that's why I'm so hesitant to form strong opinions and share them with others. Because there will always be a grey area for any belief that I have and there will always be a situation that can have the ability to make me feel differently. I believe that people are not perfect and no one is right all the time and everyone screws up. And I think that maybe instead of being so focused on the reasons why we are "right" or why someone else is "wrong," we should focus on the grey area in between those extremes. Because those are the situations that need attention and mercy and love. Those are the situations that make us forget about our own trivial opinions and connect as human beings.

Time and recognition

Time is a curious thing. You so desperately want it to speed up, to win first place in a NASCAR race, to act as a cheetah sprinting across the savannah. And as soon as it does, you want to take back every wish you ever had to hurry the time along because you need more of it. You no longer see time as something to throw away but as something to cherish and treasure. You don't see the day as relentless hours but as precious seconds that should be appreciated and remembered fully. You don't see your current situation as a burden but as a gift.

Time, as the age-old cliche says, also heals. It lessens the pain of heartaches. It gives you closure. It changes aspects of your life. It provides clarity. It can help you to recognize the poison that has been eating away at your life...at your character...at your dignity, your conscience, your heart. It's hard to recognize that you've formed a bad habit until enough time has passed and you can step back and realize what you've done and what you've been doing for quite some time. It can be something as simple as gossiping behind a friend's back or something as crucial as dropping a friend from your life completely. How can we expect to better ourselves if we do not first recognize our own faults? How can we expect to become the best versions of ourselves if we cannot understand our wrongdoings and ask for forgiveness?

We are not flawless. We are not perfect. We cannot avoid sin. But we can look our sins square in the face and say "you are evil and wrong." We can go to those who we have wronged and ask them to give us another chance. We can admit to our wrongdoings and ask for forgiveness. In fact, that is about all we can do.

We are who we choose to be. We are who we decide to become. If at the end of the day, we are not proud of who we are then how can we expect others to look upon us with favor? If we are ashamed of things we have done, how can we expect to live a blissful life without first facing our sins?

We must use time to our advantage. We must not waste it being ashamed or embarrassed or afraid. If we feel a certain way, we must take the necessary action to supply that feeling with its antidote and provide the word describing that feeling with its antonym. Feel ashamed? Admit to your shame and regain your confidence. Feel embarrassed? Take a few breaths, close your eyes, and find your composure. Feel afraid? Dig deep and discover your innermost courage. Because in the grand scheme of things, all we really are guaranteed is the body, the soul, and the time we are given. And if we cannot look in the mirror and feel at peace with the person we are, then we must change. And if we cannot look back upon our lives and feel absolutely sure that we utilized every second, every day, and each moment to the best of our ability, then we have failed.