Back to Normal.

The background has returned. My life is settled, and it's 1:30 in the morning and I'm writing a blog instead of sleeping before my midterm tomorrow. Life is back to normal. This week has been hectic. I probably over-reacted every step of the way, which I am prone to do. But knowing that I made it out to be such a big deal doesn't make it feel less stressful, if that makes sense. I work on it, though. This post doesn't have much of a purpose, so we'll see where it leads.

Here's a thought that was on my mind this week. When I was in high school, I couldn't wait to move out of my house. I was ready to make it on my own, and go off to college, away from my family. I wanted to make my own decisions. I wanted to make choices. I wanted to be in charge of my own life. I wanted to be an adult, indepent, not needing anyone. I think it's a universal thought that all of us self-centered teenagers run across in life, the desire to prove ourselves and our independence to a world much larger than the house where we've been forced to abide by rules and curfews for 18 years.

I got my tonsils out when I was four months short of seventeen, in the midst of this rebellious independent phase. Both of my parents attended. Now, anesthesia and I do not mix well. I come out of anesthesia unhappily. Violently, actually. I don't remember the first twenty mintues of waking up after the tonsillectomy, though it apparently involved alot of flailing and me being strapped to a bed to avoid punching any nurses. I think I wanted to stand up and they, with good reason, refused. My first actual memory is being in the bed, just not feeling well. Anesthesia does weird things, but I think the body can realize that something is wrong--the limbs are too lethargic, it's difficult to move, thoughts are foggy, and time has passed for which my mind cannot account. Maybe it's the loss of control, I don't know. Either way, I just felt kind of twitchy on the outside and distressed on the inside. Mom was on one side of the bed, and Dad on the other. I was holding Dad's hand. I flailed to the other side of the bed and squeezed Mom's hand. This continued for a few minutes, since I couldn't remain still long enough to hold either one of their hands for long. I tried to touch my surgical wounds inside of my mouth, and they stopped me. (I don't know why I thought it was a good idea to try that, but I tried nonetheless.) I tried to sit up and they gently pushed me back down. I held their hands longer. They brought me a cup of ice and mountain dew, since I needed to get something in my stomach. Dad spoon fed me the chips of ice and mountain dew while Mom held my hand and continued to soothe me. They drove me home, where I promptly collapsed in bed.

In retrospect, I smile at that day. It opened my eyes. I was so bent on being independent, on believing that I didn't need my parents. However, as soon as I was waking up, lost and confused, the first thing I remember doing is reaching for their hands for comfort and support. I proceeded to ignore this lesson and assert my independence throughout senior year of high school, pretending that I didn't need anybody. Then, college happened. I spent the first year visiting occasionally, but still deluding myself into believing that I was doing it all on my own, that I didn't need my family, that their help was appreciated but not necessary.

But little by little, it's more and more apparent to me that I need my parents as much now as I did as a six-year-old girl trying to find protection from velociraptors. When I couldn't sleep after a breakup, I called Mom in the middle of the night for somebody to listen to me cry. When I have questions about my car, or I'm stranded and don't know what to do, I call Dad and know that he'll always make time to give me the help I need. I lean on them both throughout the harder situations in life, and they are always there with constant support and love.

This whole thing might sound like some sort of bribe on the off-chance that my parents will read my blog, but I guess I just figure it's an important lesson. We all need to lean on somebody, and not always someone as an equal. Friends are important, too, but nothing is quite like the fact that my parents have seen me at my worst. They saw me in diapers, they saw me as a brat, learning the word no. They see the worst of my temper and the meanest I've been. They've seen me when I'm sick, or an unkempt mess, or when I didn't feel like looking clean or pretty or presentable. And despite this, they will love me just the same, even if I make entirely no sense or look completely miserable. Somewhere along the way, I tried to delude myself into believing that I didn't need their unconditional love. World... I was wrong. Who knew that a stubborn 18-year-old could be so wrong.

Okay, this is getting too personal and sappy. So, to lighten this, don't take things for granted, whether it be the fact that you are loved or the fact that you have food to eat today, that you are walking about without pain, or that you learned the valuable lesson of laughing at yourself. And hope that you don't come out of anesthesia violently. I think my parents were a little embarrassed as they comforted their flailing daughter while the girl in the next bed just smiled peacefully. Though I'm not sure Dustin was such an improvement. Dustin doesn't come out violently. He did moonwalk after getting his wisdom teeth out, along with writing poetry, making kissing faces, and creating sound effects to accompany the x-ray machine. There are some interesting youtube videos as testament to the crazy effects anesthesia has on him. Mom and Dad were at least more entertained by his reaction. Like how they felt about his GPA as opposed to mine in high school...

There's really nowhere else for this post to go. Have a great day.

Today.

Read the "Raptors?" thing on the side. It explains the bakcground for today.

Jess made me a lovley background. We both very much like it. She also said at one point it wasn't crazy enough for me. I begged to differ. I have many levels, and not all are crazy. However, in honor of that statement, I have used photoshop to show that I am not entirely incompetent with photoshop, by simply pasting a picture of a raptor above pre-existing pictures. I didn't have any sort of image account, so currently my school webDAV account, used for Web Design, is hosting the image.

I'm in web design and I can't make a background? Dang. I can at least understand the CSS that controls this template though!

Either way, enjoy the altered background for a few days or until Jess cracks up and then comes up with something way more awesome, since her photoshop skills will always exceed those of mine.

Art.

The other day, I was having an instant messanger conversation with my friend, Leah. Leah's younger sister makes lovely wood-burning art, and I had been talking to this sister about purchasing one of these things, to which she responded she wasn't sure of price, since she "wasn't a professional or anything." I mentioned this to Leah, which spurred this discussion.

[Note: this is not my screen name. This is not Leah's screen name. Do not attempt to IM either of these screen names, please.]

argill (5:31:18 PM): well, I was like
argill (5:31:20 PM): it's art.
argill (5:31:23 PM): art is art
argill (5:31:49 PM): artists can come from anywhere!
argill (5:31:55 PM): novices can exceed experts!
fracturedradiance (5:38:12 PM): that's the life
fracturedradiance (5:38:22 PM): but I like school too much to be an artist
fracturedradiance (5:38:24 PM): woe is me
argill (5:38:39 PM): lol
argill (5:38:44 PM): you ARE an artist!
argill (5:38:46 PM): that's the beauty of it!
argill (5:38:54 PM): you are a painter and a poet and a musician
argill (5:39:01 PM): and a reader and a writer
argill (5:39:07 PM): and you appreciate beauty in the world!
fracturedradiance (5:39:26 PM): true, I think an artist should be anyone who appreciates beauty and is capable of conveying that
fracturedradiance (5:39:34 PM): like your blog
argill (5:39:44 PM): we are all artists somewhere inside of us, we just have to find out how to express it
argill (5:39:56 PM): everybody appreciates the world in some way
fracturedradiance (5:39:54 PM): that's what Marx thinks!
fracturedradiance (5:40:56 PM): that's why he hates capitalism
fracturedradiance (5:41:06 PM): it turns so much human potential into a mechanical process
argill (5:41:23 PM): ah
argill (5:41:28 PM): I can see why he'd have a problem
argill (5:41:38 PM): but if there weren't the mechanical processes, things would fall apart
fracturedradiance (5:41:44 PM): Marx thinks that people find meaning through creating in their particular, original way
fracturedradiance (5:41:53 PM): and when capitalism takes over, people don't appreciate their work
fracturedradiance (5:41:59 PM): they live for leisure once the work week is done
fracturedradiance (5:42:03 PM): and that is a shame
argill (5:42:18 PM): I think if people never did anything but create, they wouldn't be able to appreciate its value
fracturedradiance (5:42:24 PM): he just doesn't like the hierarchy
fracturedradiance (5:42:32 PM): his method to fix this, of course, is ineffective
fracturedradiance (5:43:10 PM): well, he means create in the sense of doing what they were meant to do; if they like math, do math, if they like shoe making, make shoes, if they like growing plants, sell them
fracturedradiance (5:43:19 PM): but he thinks people should directly see the fruits of their labor
fracturedradiance (5:43:22 PM): he hates the factory
fracturedradiance (5:43:25 PM): and the corporate world
fracturedradiance (5:43:43 PM): the market does not run as effectively, but he argues that it’s not about money, it’s about people and social relationships
fracturedradiance (5:43:53 PM): I really think he gets a bad rap
fracturedradiance (5:44:07 PM): because at the most basic level, his yearnings make sense and have humanity in mind
fracturedradiance (5:44:20 PM): but what sprang from his ideas was largely unsuccessful
argill (5:44:13 PM): well, in essence his ideas are good, just put into practice they are flawed
argill (5:44:19 PM): and not necessarily because they were WRONG
argill (5:44:25 PM): nobody has just figured out how to do them right
fracturedradiance (5:44:43 PM): it’s very complicated


I never knew this about Marx, personally. I think that if that's how he felt, he had somewhat of a point, in the sense that we are all artists. Leah's sister claims to not be a professional. But she's creating something beautiful, expressing herself to the world by allowing them to appreciate part of what she can do. Leah writes poetry, her way of showing the world what she thinks is beautiful and allowing them to glimpse a piece of what inspires her as beauty. I write a blog, through which I allow others to laugh at my experiences as I would. We all do something, whether it's defined by what we think of as "art." So often, people think of art as specifically painting, photography, music, drama. The "Arts." But isn't it so much broader than that? All creative thought is art to some extent. Why aren't new scientific breakthroughs considered art in some form? Why is art considered such a narrow field? We are all gifted at something. We all create beauty somehow. We all have areas of specialty, whether the world acknowledges this as art or recognizes us as professionals.

I urge you, reader, recognize where your talent lies and learn to express yourself through it. Fellow mathematicians, do you see the beauty in well-thought out proofs, in number theory? or, to others. do you see beauty in chemical reactions, in the structure of cells, in the patterns of the universe? Do you see hte beauty in harmony of colors? Are you able to capture life on film in stunning ways? Do you make beautiful clothes? Do you possess the ability to reach people through your words? Can you see and appreciate the harmony in notes, the interaction of melodies and instruments? I could go on for paragraphs about so many little things that are artistic, and still never manage to list them all. I can understand why Marx would have wished for everyone to be able to pursue their talent, and I regret that it isn't something that can feasibly be done, at least in what I see.

So, even if it's just on the side, just whenever you have time, don't forget to be an artist. Make time to contribute to the world.

Marshmallows.

I would have failed the marshmallow test.

Let me explain. The marshmallow test is a different way of testing a young student's ability to succeed scholastically. IQ, or intelligence quotient, tests are commonly used. However, these are more a measurement of the ability to learn facts and logic. EQ, or emotional intelligence, is more of a test of the ability to gauge emotions. I guess it's better to explain it with the test.

The Marshmallow Test.
A group of young children are all in a room, and all given a marshmallow. The adult in charge has to leave, but gives the students instructions. They may eat the marshmallow if they like. However, if they still have not eaten the marshmallow by the time the adult returns, they will be given a second marshmallow. The students that pass typically do better at being motivated in school and keeping their eyes on future goals.

Typically, 1/3 of the children scarf down the marshmallow with no second thoughts or regrets. The next 1/3 of the children try and wait, but little by little, or eventually, the marshmallow is gone. The third group calmly waits for the adult to return, upon which they get a second marshmallow.

Now, I actually might pass the marshmallow test if it were marshmallows, since I'm not so fond of them. They have an odd sort of texture, and unless they have been caught on fire and are currently between two graham crackers with a piece of chocolate, I have little enjoyment for them. Additionally, I always want to type "marshmellow." Unfortunately, this word is spelled in a way that is not really at all how it is pronounced. Thus, I would have little use in consuming such a food in the hypothetical testing environment. So let's use something that is more appealing to me. Pizza.

Now, in the pizza test, Little Andrea is not in the first group. She really wants the second piece of pizza. However, she will try to wait. She might try something sneaky, like eating the bottom of the pizza and hoping the adult doesn't notice. She'll start with that, at least, and eventually decide that she'd rather just eat the pizza and pass out on the second piece. Better yet, she'll befriend someone else like her. They will split Little Andrea's pizza, and leave the friend's pizza untouched. The friend will then give Andrea her second piece of pizza, and both will get one and a half pieces of pizza. Adult Andrea would probably try the same thing. Then again, I'm pretty good about my credit card, so maybe I do understand.

Dustin is my brother. He is one day less than a year younger than me (figure that one out.) He would have passed both the marshmallow and the pizza test. This is not only because of his superior EQ, it is because he doesn't like cheese. Rather than eat his pizza, he would probably bribe one of the other children into doing something for him in exchange for his two pieces of pizza. He'd probably have bribed me into doing chores in exchange for his pizza. I really liked pizza then. Still do, though not to the point that I'd let Dustin bribe me into pizza. Crafty little fellow that he is. I'm glad I never went to pre-school with him. Same with marshmallows. He would have had no trouble waiting for a second marshmallow. Then he would proceed to have the same teachers a year after me from second grade to senior year, giving him an obvious advantage at schoolwork.

For real, though, I wonder how I would have done. I don't know if I'd have made it, because sometimes I make decisions that I know I could have thought through more thoroughly (dang, that's like a tongue-twister for the eyes) and done better. On the other hand, I feel like I have the ability to make good decisions. I guess the results of the marshmallow test that I never took won't affect my current life all too much at this point. I mean, no matter how I would have done on that test, I am who I am now. And, its just a kid and a marshmallow. How much will that actually reveal about who a person will become?

Now I want S'mores.

[Edit: Upon finishing this blog, click here for related, entertaining reading. And don't forget to comment on either!]

Weather.

As I walked into the meal plan place (I call it a meal plan place because it is not a cafeteria and I don't want to use the actual name in some odd attempt to pretend that my blog doesn't reveal any personal information leading to my whereabouts, although dining hall may have been more fitting,) it was maybe a little cloudy, and warm. As I left with a takeout box of food in one hand and a cup of apple, orange, and cranberry juice (I created this mixture from the drink fountain) (I misuse parentheses) in the other, the wind began to blow. Luckily, I was walking into the wind, so it blew my hair away from my face so that it trailed behind me like a banner declaring my presence to the world. That's how I felt. In this gust of wind, I realized, "It will rain later." I could tell by the wind. Maybe it's the smell of rain coming, or maybe the humid feel of the wind. Or perhaps the presence of ominous clouds--I don't recall ever thinking the wind will bring rain when the sky is so overwhelmingly blue and cloudless that it's almost painful--but I knew rain was imminent.

Either way, Floridians have a knack for understanding the weather. Other state people might, too, but I wouldn't know about them. I just know in Florida one has to be extremely educated about the chances of rain and thunderstorms. Florida thunderstorms can appear whenever. They defy the laws of weather. They may appear in the morning, the afternoon, in the dead of night, any time, any season, anywhere. We are not the Sunshine State. In fact, I think Florida is where the weather decides to play tricks. "Hmm, I'm bored. Let's throw a thunderstorm at Florida. While it's sunny. Figure that one out." It must be like the ultimate meteorology test, predicting Florida's weather. Think you're good at what you do? Spend a week in Florida. Best of luck, meteorologists.

In addition to being a Floridian, I am a lifegaurd, which also requires knowledge of thunderstorms. Pools and lightning do not mix well, so I hear. As a camp counselor, we were a long walk from the pool, and would spend the day debating whether or not we could go, often times turning back as we were journeying towards the pool. Where I work now (still attempting to protect my whereabouts) during the summers as a lifegaurd, the residents live a good 50 yards from the pool. As such, we take closer risks with the weather, while still placing the safety of the swimmers at top priority. Usually by lunch we know if we can make it a full day. The summer days start out blue and cloudless. By lunch, clouds begin to build. The amount of clouds and the puffiness tells us the chances of rain. The more the clouds seem to be exploding upwards, the better chance of rain. Then clouds become more frequent and gray, and then you can see the horizon getting blurred in the distance because of approaching rain. Then there's maybe rumbles of thunder. At the first crash-like thunder, or any flash of light, all the residents are rushed from the pool and taken home immediately. Sometimes we close the pool before the last swim session, sometimes we make it the entire hour before the storm reaches us. The point is, we have to know the weather to keep the swimmers safe.

The weather here, in Northwestern Florida, however, is some odd hybrid of real weather and Florida weather. It's more predictable, it's as humid as farther south, and as cold as farther north. Terrible, really. But last winter it was very predictable. It would rain. Then it would be cold and sunny for three days, with each day getting warmer until jackets weren't necessary. Then, on the fourth day, it would rain. This cycle repeated itself a good many times. I liked that cycle. I knew what to expect, and it never reached the freezing temperatures that this year reached. Maybe the wind today was the first sign that this cycle has restarted. Or maybe it's just some other trick being thrown at Florida.

But, no matter what the weather the previous day, each day starts new again. Maybe it'll be cloudy, maybe it'll be sunny. Despite what the weather throws at you, it cannot stop the next day from starting, for the weather to play out as it will. But the weather cannot stop the earth from moving, the sun from rising, or the chance to being each brand new day as you will. So, no matter what the literal or metaphorical weather in your life, take comfort in knowing that it won't stop the sunrise; tomorrow is inevitable, sun or clouds, so seize the opportunity to make the most of each new day.