Frostbite.

As I have stated before, I live in Florida. The Sunshine State. Where it never snows. As such, I am quite accustomed to warm weather. I can wear jeans and a hoodie when it's 80 degrees out, and in fact did for the majority of middle school. (I was still figuring out who I was.) I mean, I have a tolerance for some cold, in short bursts, perhaps when it's still early morning and the sun hasn't risen, or maybe on a rare day when it stays cold all day and it's necessary for me to actually search for a shirt with sleeves that reach all the way to my wrists.

That was then. Now I have moved into northern Florida for college, where apparently the weather is much more brutal. I woke up yesterday for the first day of classes and checked the weather app on my iPhone. It was currently 32 degrees outside, but it felt like 22. I contemplated dropping the class, but begrudgingly realized that "I would have died of cold" would not have gone well with my parents as to why I lost my scholarships, dropped out of school, and moved back in with them forever.

I blow dried my hair. Not for any sake of fashion, but because although arriving to class with icicles on my hair might look surprisingly like dreadlocks, I felt it was not the best thing for my health. I did put on multiple layers of clothes. Florida jeans are made to be worn in the summer and not overheat. As such, they aren't good for the winter. In fact, they are completely useless in the winter. So I wear leggings under them to make up for this fact. It might help more if the leggings in Florida weren't made to be worn in the summer and not let you overheat.

Today, it is 33 degrees out, and it feels like 33, since there is no wind. In fact, according to the app, the wind is CALM at calm mph. That is great to know. I'll go prepare for that immediately.

Love.

Love. There a thousand directions in which a blog on this topic could go. I'll start by saying that in other languages, there are often multiple translations for our version of love, referring to different types of love. Isn't it odd that we use the same word to describe scenarios ranging from someone with whom we want to spend the rest of our lives to a tasty meal which we found quite pleasing to the palette?

In my last blog, I touched--merely touched--on the topic of love for family and friends, about both of which I could write books and still never fully explain. However, today I want to touch on the topic most commonly portrayed by the media and most pressed upon our minds since we were first old enough to watch movies: I guess I'll call it relationship love for lack of a better term.

See, from what I've been taught my whole life in movies--fairy tales, chick flicks, even comedies--is that two people meet and realize they are attracted to each other, physically emotionally, maybe they initially hate each other even, it's not too important. In the course of the next small time period, there is an obstacle to this love. However, they are both amazingly able to overcome this, and you have true love! Applause and tears, that's how to find a soulmate.

Of course, everyone always mocks this. Everyone seems to know this is a farce, that love can't be that way, but deep down it's still difficult for me to overcome this mindset, that love should be full of turmoil but resolution, constantly full of the butterflies in the stomach and jitters and whatever else they portray. I think that many people, even if they openly know the movie love isn't true love, still seem to search for that feeling in life. I know I do. But any relationship I've ever been in lost that feeling eventually. And then I wonder why I looked to the media when one of the more true examples of love has been in front of my face just as long.

My parents were married some years before I was born. As long as I've been alive, they've been together. They seem to enjoy each other's company; they have such goofy jokes and sometimes my brother and I just roll our eyes to see them together, singing or some other nonsense. The little quirks that all families have. Also, though, like I'm sure everyone does in their lifetime, they've been known to fight on occasion. I'm sure I don't even know the worst of it, but I'm willing to bet at times they have been so angry with each other that at least one of them has wanted to walk out.

"Love is not a feeling; it's an ability." That was a quote in a movie. I, however, beg to differ. While I agree that love is not the emotion we make it out to be, I say rather than ability, love is a decision, love is a choice. No matter how my parents have ever felt towards one another, whether happy or angry or sad or disappointed or overjoyed, they have always made the decision to still be there, for better or for worse, through good times and bad, through whatever life threw at them. The choice to stay together, to still live together and function together, that's what love is. Any movie that shows love as the resolution after one conflict has only scratched the surface. I think love is so much more deep and so much more true than that.

Mom, Dad, I love you both very much. You two have helped show me more clearly that anyone else can a depth of love that movies or stories or music can't even touch on. Thank you for that.

The End of a Year.

Sometimes I wonder if there are a limited amount of chances in life. It's hard to explain exactly what I mean; I don't think that the world works in such a way that you get, for example, ONE SHOT to find your "soulmate," and if you screw that up you are over. On the other hand, I also don't think that the powers of the universe, whether God or destiny or chance, gives everyone an unlimited amount of chances to make mistakes, to do it wrong, and to screw up.

I guess the reason I think this is because sometimes I wonder if I've used up my chances. My chances to find true love, my chances to be a good person, or to become someone great in life, or things like that. I certainly haven't made the best use of my time these past few years, and as I look back upon 2009, I just see how I wasted my time: spending it with the wrong people, or isolating myself, wasting it away on things that really didn't matter. The years before weren't too much more profitable, but I think 2009 was the worst spent year of them all. I look back and all I see are ruined relationships, lost friendships, regret, hurt, people I wronged, and situations in which I shouldn't have been. I don't know what good I have to say about this year. I even don't think I can use the, "My mistakes at least taught me something," loophole, because I doubt the lessons learned here are even significant enough to make a difference on how I view this year.

However, I've also learned more about love than I expected. I more fully understand the unconditional love of family. I never realized until now just how important it is that, no matter where I've been in life, I always had their love supporting me like a backbone, through the worst and best of times, and that no matter how my life goes, I can always return home to these people who will love me the same. Additionally, I've learned about the importance of friendship, those lessons you hear throughout life and never acknowledge. I only have a few friends, but their of the close variety where I know that they will still be there when I'm having a rough time or a rough day. They are the people that I'm not afraid to be myself around, even though I may sometimes be a little odd or irritating, because I know that they will love me nonetheless. I can tell them anything, and they will believe in me far more than I can figure out how to believe in myself.

I started this blog feeling dejected, and in writing it I've begun to smile, because what started out as a feeling of hopelessness evolved into a realization that I'm not alone, and life still holds hope for me and the future, no matter how the past looks.

So here's to 2010. I'll go ahead and look forward to it, since it's going to happen whether I welcome it or not.

Outside.

I went outside today.

To many of you, this statement may sound obvious or even ridiculous, but when I have nowhere to go, I sometimes forget to leave the house. I get engrossed in the television or being in my computer, without even taking so much time as to step on the porch, let alone cross the threshold of my front door. Also, I've effectively reversed my sleep schedule, so there is little daylight, and there's less cause to be walking around in the middle of the night. Also, it's been Thanksgiving break, so there have been no classes.

However, last night I was outside briefly to find Dustin (he was cleaning out his truck) and glanced at the sky and noticed a bright star. Having taken both astronomy and astronomy lab, I knew the brightest star in the winter sky is Sirius, so this was a planet, and judging by the size, brightness, and lack of red color (eliminating Mars) it was probably Saturn, possibly Jupiter.

Moving on. Tonight, at about four, I was instant messaging a friend when suddenly I was struck with the intense urge to go outside. So I typed "brb," and put my computer down. In the middle of the night, I unlocked the front door and stepped outside. I didn't even know what temperature to expect, what weather I would encounter, or what the world would be like at this hour.

The first thing I noticed was the cold. It was more refreshing than anything, being in Florida, chilly enough to make me uncomfortable in a t-shirt, but not unbearable. It woke me up, drew me back to reality and out of my world of computers and projects and irrelevant hobbies. I stepped out further on the driveway and looked up; there were some clouds, but the sky was mostly clear, and stars were visible. The planet had set by this time, but I recognized other constellations, and searched for familiar landmark stars, jogging my memory for facts, names, and terms. Then, pausing, I noticed the stillness. The stillness of the world, of the air, the cold, the stars, all of it. Even myself at that moment. Everything everywhere paused to wait, paused to hush, paused to rest. I couldn't help but feel calm with the quiet world, silent air, enlivening cold, and hopeful stars.

I say that one of my favorite times of the day is morning, and it's true; I love the feeling of a new day, a fresh sun, and a dewy world. But there's something to be said for the peaceful night, when everything sleeps and even the world pauses to prepare for a new day. There's something to be said for those wise winter nights.

Meal Plans.

(Note: This blog, unlike most of the others, was written spur of the moment and created in the rambling style in which it appeared in my mind.)

This is my third year as a student at college. The most significant difference, to me at least, between these years, is my living conditions. The past two years, I lived in a dorm where I shared a room with Judy and didn't have a kitchen and was required to by a meal plan. This meant that for a major part of the week I could depend on always being able to have a hamburger or salad or fries or something of the sort. Also, I never really palnned on making anything big in my dorm, because when your cooking space consists of a sink and a microwave, options are limited. (Though with foil and a clothes iron, I can make a mean grilled cheese sandwich.)

However, this year I am in the apartment style dorms. This means I have my own bedroom and a kitchen with a full sized refrigerator. Whoa! I know, impressive, eh? However, this means that my diet has significantly changed. I know over the summer I had grand ideas of cooking meals all the time and making tasty dishes that I was accustomed to making at home, where Mom does the dishes and buys the ingredients and I don't have to worry about obscure spices or kitchenware or things of that nature. Here at college, it's different. I don't have most of the little ingredients and items houses seem to acquire, I have only what I'm willing to buy from the store, which usually isn't much since I have to carry whatever I buy up three flights of stairs, making my shopping list as short as possible.

So, I basically have reverted back to my high school diet: frozen pizzas. Tostinos pizzas at that. In high school, I lived off of these and bagel bites. Now, again, I find myself stockpiling these in the freezer, ready to make for any given meal of the day (yes, I do eat them for breakfast on occasion.) I also have a box of cheerios I've eaten from once. Milk goes bad faster than I actually use it. That's the same reason I don't make the macaroni and cheese as often as I would like. Sandwiches have become a possibility after my grandma explained to me that you can freeze bread. Now I can actually use an entire loaf! With this bread, I can make the peanut butter and jelly described in previous blogs, or a turkey sandwich, provided I have turkey at the moment. And mustard and mayonnaise and pickles. Also I eat Eggo waffles alot. They're nice: put them in the toaster. Syrup. Meal.

Other than that, I'll buy food from somewhere on campus or drive somewhere to get something. Pollo Tropical and Quiznos, being on campus, are particular favorites.

The issue, besides the fact that there is little variety in my diet, is also that I eat less. At the meal plan place, it was basically all you could eat or fit in your takeout box. I didn't overeat, but I certainly never under-ate. However, now that I have a limited supply of food, I eat less than I did. I'm still eating a normal human amount, but I think the issue is when I'm living off of frozen pizzas and waffles, from where are my vitamins coming? I really don't know.

Anyways, it's 6 at night, and all I've had all day were two frozen waffles. I think I'm going to Subway.