Counting My Blessings: Thanksgiving 2014 Edition

I was looking through my old blog post drafts when I found this list of things I was grateful for that I wrote on Thanksgiving 2014.

1. My gorgeous sloth hat, which an awesome friend of mine crocheted for me. It made for an excellent first-day-of-school surprise! I'm grateful that I have such amazing friends, and that it is finally sloth hat weather!

2. My awesome new shirts! (The other one is the exaxt same, just a size larger.) I'm grateful that my family is just affluent enough to afford $14 shirts, but just poor enough that I can appreciate them.

3. This lovely scarf, as modeled by the bunny bank that has served me well since I was 6 (Thanks, Grandma and Grandpa!). My grandmother, Grambee, crocheted this scarf for me so I would remember her. After her death, I treasured the card that came with it even more greatly:

The card reads:

Dear Lydia,

   I made this scarf for you. It can be for your age now - and even when you have grown up.

   I want you to know and remember when you wear this scarf that your Grambee loves you and is proud of you!

Love,

Grambee

4. All my Anne of Green Gables books, from the most well-loved to the brand new. I'm grateful for my dad for exposing me to such great books.

5. My cat. If dog is a man's best friend, cat is a woman's best friend. She makes a great cuddle buddy, and she has a certain amount of disdain for humanity, which I appreciate.

6. What I lovingly refer to as "my little Kindle-1". It does what it was made to do exceptionally well: allow me to read books. I am grateful for my mom, the steward of the Amazon account, for choosing it for me. (Although I'm sure my dad had something to do with it as well...)

7. Tea!!! I recently discovered how amazing tea is, and now I have to resist the temptation to drink it all the time. Here is the jellyfish version of one of my friends, who also appreciates tea (much more than I do, actually) and whom I am very grateful for:

...and the draft ends abruptly. To be honest, I haven't changed all that much in the past three years. I hope that you are doing well, and that you have lots to be grateful for. 

Best wishes,

Lydia

A Few Poems by 15-Year-Old Lydia

I am debating about whether to post some bunch of emotionally intense poetry I wrote recently. In the meantime, here are a bunch of rondelets I wrote in tenth grade, exactly as I emailed them to my poetry teacher. 

Felicia

My cat is soft.

She wakes me up hoping for food.

My cat is soft.

I have yarn balls she loves to loft.

Although she is often quite rude

(For she is always in the nude),

My cat is soft.

Izzy*

Izzy is dead.

I listened to her for too long.

Izzy is dead.

I made her play too many songs,

Yet I feel I've done nothing wrong.

Izzy is dead.

*V. Important Note: Izzy is my iPod. I don't kill people by making them sing to me.

 Failure

Why can't I write

Poems that sing of truth and life?

Why can't I write?

Finding words is a constant fight.

I can't describe a writer's strife

Or a man's search for a good wife.

Why can't I write?

Please Explain

I saw your eyes

Glancing my way from time to time. 

I saw your eyes, 

But let pursed lips be my disguise. 

Even though I know it's not a crime,

And though the party was sublime,

I saw your eyes.

(This is why Lydia avoids writing poems about other people. Also, obviously the person I'm referring to in 2nd person isn't you.)

Laziness

I am lazy,

After a day full of deep thoughts.

I am lazy

After my life has gotten too crazy. 

In my life I have always sought

For somewhere I could sleep a lot.

I am lazy.

The Lord's Name in Vain (A Controversial Poem)

God, I'm sorry

For the words I said; I didn't think.

God, I'm sorry,

For you my eyes don't grow starry.

I meant to say my sister stinks,

But I said you without a blink.

God, I'm sorry. 

Seed Seeks Roots

In May, I graduated from the school I had attended since sixth grade. I had deep, longstanding roots at that school.

In times of companionship, those roots were like the healthy roots that allow a sprout to become a tree. They allowed me to surpass my own expectations and grow in the general direction of the person I want to become.

In times of distress, those roots were like the destructive roots of an overgrown tomato plant. After a few years, reinvention felt impossible. The crippling jaws of history left me trapped in the same social patterns year after year.

After graduation, I was ready to escape from the roots that had enabled and trapped my high school self. In college, I could reinvent myself, unbound by my personal history.

I don't have any roots here. However, I cannot claim that I am unchained. My inhibitions, anxieties, timidity, and personality ensnare me in patterns of loneliness and self-doubt.

Still, I am never overlooked. There is always someone ready to greet me by name with a big smile. I can sit with complete strangers at meals and feel welcome.

This shallow impression of companionship doesn't satisfy me. I am tired of gathering factoids. Nothing short of deep personal connections will satisfy me. I don't want to consider loneliness an ineradicable fact of my life.

In short, I want roots. Without roots, courage is nearly impossible. If you are going to jump off the highest diving board without knowing how to swim, you need to know and trust the people who are waiting to catch you.

I am no longer the deeply rooted plant that was my past self. Instead, I am a seed.

For a seed, growing roots is a risky business. If seeds could think, I suppose they would think that they would always be seeds. "Why would I become something bigger?" the seed might wonder. "I'm already a seed!" Like the seed, I will have to abandon the carefully constructed visage that previously enabled and constrained me.

I can't imagine our thinking seed feeling any shame about being a seed. The seed doesn't know anything else. It doesn't think "Gee, what could I do in order to grow roots?". Instead, the seed relaxes and naturally eases into the growing of roots. A true thinking seed would never feel the need to write this blog post; having never felt the tug of roots, it would never miss them. I must embrace being a seed in order to become a plant.

To become a plant, a seed must allow itself to be affected by the elements. A seed cannot say "I will not allow the water and sunshine and soil quality to affect me at all whatsoever" and expect to grow successfully. Instead, it must welcome the outside influences that change it from its original form. In the same way, I cannot pretend to be unaffected by the influences that surround me. When growing roots, it is okay to be sensitive, rather than trying to be tough. 

Honestly, I don't know anything about being a seed. Before today, I awkwardly stumbled through the seed phases of my life in the race towards plantdom. The tangled roots that ensnared me were the consequence of my lack of mindfulness. This time, I will try to enjoy the seed stage before I forget what it is like to be unbounded.

Biting Mshen: On This Day in 2004

Here is a first grade journal entry I wrote about my sister. She is absolutely awesome, despite her sharp teeth!

Transcription:
December 15, 2004
When I am on vkashon I play whif my siser. I love her a lot. She is a baby. She is a biting mshen. And osow she is a pinching mshen. When my dad is at work she sings for him. 

Translation:
December 15, 2004
When I am on vacation, I play with my sister. I love her a lot. She is a baby. She is a biting machine. And also she is a pinching machine. When my dad is at work she sings for him. 

Analysis:
Firstly, I would like to point out that "biting" and "pinching" were two of the only 'big' words I could spell back then, which must mean something. Secondly, the event indicated in the line "When my dad is at work she sings for him" was absolutely adorable. She would stand by the door, singing ballads wishing that he would come home. When he finally did come home, she would launch herself at him with open arms and cling to him like a baby monkey. :)

I hope you enjoyed this blog post!
<3 Lydia 

I Love My Famaly: On This Day in 2004

Here is something I wrote on this day when I was in first grade. I am including a translation (in case you don't speak first grader) and some analysis after my transcription of the journal entry.

Transcription:
December 3, 2004
I love my famaly. Every pirsin in the world has a famaly. If sumwun dusint have a family is trdle. Do You Love Your famaly? Dus Your famaly Love You? I hope You Love Your famaly a lot. Last nite I played scrambl wif my mom and dad I love my htle

Translation: 
December 3, 2004
I love my family. Every person in the world has a family. If someone doesn't have a family, that is trouble. Do you love your family? Does your family love you? I hope you love your family a lot. Last night I played Scrabble with my mom and dad. I love my little [sister?].

Analysis:
I love that I chose to use words that I (mostly) knew how to spell in this entry. I don't think current me would ever ask so many questions of a stranger reading my family. Like, "Hi! It's so great to meet you! My name is Lydia. Do you love your family? Does your family love you? I hope you love your family!".

I hope you enjoyed this post! 
<3 Lydia

Thakfle: On This Day in 2004

Hello! This is a journal entry I wrote on this day when I was in first grade, just before Thanksgiving rolled around. I'm going to transcribe the email as written first, and then provide a translation in case you can't read first-grader speak. I hope you like it!

November 24, 2004
I am sa m thle for my famaly and my frind's and my mom and dad and my toys and m

I am thankfle for my famaly. Becuse thay feed me. , my frind Bcuse they play wif me. I am takefle for my mom too. Becuse she thak's care of me., my toy's Becuse they are the best sege to intrest my baby sisr.

Translation:
November 24, 2004
I am so thankful for my family and my friends and my mom and dad and my toys and my...

I am thankful for my family, because they feed me, my friends because they play with me. I am thankful for my mom too, because she takes care of me. My toys because they are the best thing to interest my baby sister.

Analysis:
First of all, I would like to take note that spell check went crazy in that second unedited paragraph. Secondly, did you notice that I just booted my mom out of my family? Like, I said I was thankful for my family, then talked about my friends, and then I was like "Oh, by the way, I am thankful for my mom too!". Also, why aren't I thankful for my dad, my sister, or my pets? I remember being very thankful for those things in addition to my toys and mom. Additionally, did you notice that my toys were only referenced in relation to my sister? Do you know why? It was because I didn't really care much for my toys. Or, at least not as much as I cared about my dad, my sister, and my pets...

I don't know. My first grade self had her priorities pretty messed up.
<3 Lydia

A Letter to My Eighth Grade Self

Dear Past Self (circa eighth grade),
   Hi! This is you, in your (our?) senior year of high school. You made it! No, you were not held back multiple times like you expected. In fact, you even continued your education at the same slightly-snobby liberal arts school you started out at. 
   You know that one friendship you don't want to destroy, but also don't want to be miserable in? You will end up destroying it and breaking her heart. Sorry. But do not despair! After deciding that you don't deserve friendship for awhile in tenth grade, you will (very slowly) begin to develop new friendships and rejuvenate old friendships. You haven't even met some of your future friends yet.
   I know you are wondering about some things. Yes, you will be reunited with your history project friends (although not all of them will remain your friends). The leader of your grade will be restored to her throne. Your senior play is amazing so far. Yes, you will get an important role. No, you are not a terrible actor and yes, you will improve significantly.
   While I have your attention, a note on crushes: you will actually be totally fine if you don't end up dating anyone anytime soon. Trust me on this. You do not need some random guy in your class (who is definitely not interested in you by the way) to fall in love with you in order to be amazing. (Your future self is a bit of a feminist. Come to think of it, so is one of the guys you will like this year. He wouldn't approve, and neither do I.)

Please remember:

• Grambee's laugh
• that trying to be just a little bit happy is more beautiful than the poetic angst of being sad
• to actually try hard in all of your classes (Don't even try to tell me that you're trying your best. I have seen your useless internet browsing. I have written every note you passed in Latin class.)
• that amazing, supportive, and fun people are always around if you seek them out

Lots of love,

Your Future Self