This Is My Standard.

simple as that.

My 7th grade self would be disappointed...

The angsty seventh grade version of me was given an envelope on the first day of English and told to write a letter to herself as a senior. That English teacher has since moved to Japan and that letter has probably been lost, but even though I'll never receive that moment of time in my mailbox, I can't help but think back on my seventh grade self and wonder what she would think of who I have become and what I've accomplished.

Arriving into teenage-dom, I had a lengthy mental list of expectations for how high school would turn out. I religiously watched Lizzie McGuire as a kid and envisioned the prettier, older Michaela confidently walking into Freshman year and finding the heart throb, Ethan Craft (who, looking back, wasn't even that  attractive)that would be the center of all pining and the nerdy best friend that would get me through it all and eventually steal my heart. I imagined bumping into the hottest boy in school and dropping all my books and having that classic romantic comedy meet-cute that makes your nose wrinkle. I looked forward to a time of wild spontaneity and boys that loved me and being the girl that came out on top and conquered the drama of high school.

But life has a funny way of taking it's own path, no matter how firmly your plans are set. I think that young girl in the locker bay six years ago would have been miffed to see this slightly older girl--the elder incarnate of herself--and how certain things played out.

No, she did not clumsily meet the hottest guy in school and fall in love. No, she did not get asked out as often as she hoped. No, she never really had a boyfriend. No, she is not graduating from Robinson Secondary School. No, she did not have any poignant moment with her second grade best friend nor did they really ever say good bye. No, her best friend didn't confess his secret love for her or ask her to prom. No, she doesn't get to room with the darling girl she planned on rooming with in college. No, she didn't conquer some high-strung conflict and run off into the sunset as the most well-loved, popular girl in school. But this elder incarnate is realizing some things.

Maybe I would have had a grand time with a boyfriend at all those football games and dances and maybe I really, really wish that my best friend actually did fall in love with me. Maybe I pictured walking on graduation day in blue and gold and being the proudest Ram out there. And maybe, just maybe, I feel a little perturbed that he isn't taking me to my senior prom.

But despite all of the disappointment and dashed expectations, this senior in high school would do it all over again if she could. Life took her on a more beautiful path than she could have created for herself.

I am not graduating from Robinson like I always dreamed as a little girl, but I am graduating from a school that has shaped me more than staying at Robinson could have ever done. I will walk across that stage and receive my diploma as a proud Lone Peak Knight. I may not have had many boys falling over me but I did get my first kiss on top of a mountain at sunrise and that was kinda awesome. And I've gone on a ton of really great dates with really great guys. I went to Africa and saw myself truly for the first time, despite the lack of mirrors. I danced with Kenyan women and held their children in my arms. I got accepted to the school I know I'm supposed to go to and I have the sweetest roommate. I've made friendships I could not have envisioned and soul connections that cannot be severed. I continue to learn something new about my strange self everyday. I've gone through heartbreak after let down after lonely night, but I have also had so many dreams realized and so many wild nights when I've felt absolutely infinite--those times have made up for any thwarted hopes.

So, despite the fact that this whole post might be one long defense mechanism to make myself feel better about (don't judge) prom, this era of time has been one of copious amounts of self-discovery and joy. And I think if I had lunch with my 7th grade self, she would be proud of the person I'm becoming. 

The Wanderer

Her eyes aren't bright but she'd like to think that one day someone will call them stormy--the kind of storm that is slightly terrifying but also enthralling and beautiful. She wears t-shirts almost everyday because she thinks trying to look pretty is over-rated and she'd much rather be liked for her brain. She cares too deeply sometimes and it leaves her heart open for poking and prodding and pain. She is too shy to stand up for herself and therefore gets walked on a lot. Her face is made up of freckles and foot prints. People are impressed with her vulnerability but they don't know that there's still a mask over her face. Even when she cries to her best friend, she smiles through the tears because she can't bear to look weak. 

Only a fraction of her heart resides in this place while the rest of the pieces are roaming miles away, embracing people and places that no one understands. She knows that God has a plan for her but still doesn't comprehend how she could ever find someone that loved her enough to deal with her ridiculousness forever. She is self conscious of her teeth and her knees and her poor breathing habits and no one even knows. No one can fully grasp what is in the big-sky landscapes of her mind. 

But somehow she has a gift for seeing through people's happy eyes and knowing. They think that they can hide behind their pupils, but that is the exact place where she finds the portal to their souls. And for some reason, people look into her face and find a safe harbor where their souls can abide. She likes that about herself. When no one else cares or understands, she can be the place where they hide.

Now she's walking on a blanket of grass with her bare feet, feeling every spongey step with her soles. The ground pushes skyward and she presses forward as she hums some song that reminds her of her past. The expanse is vast but warm and familiar. And then the grass stops.

She is standing on the edge of eternity ready to jump and soar.

Mirror Images

"Thank you for being lovely, and weird, and real, and quiet sometimes, and so hyper some other times, and for thinking a lot, and for being relatable, and HUMAN, and for having freckles, and for being 100% completely you."

Sometimes people tap you on the shoulder and say, "Hey, I know you," and you are left awe-struck that anyone could show you to yourself so accurately.

I've been much quieter lately and I didn't think anyone had noticed. But that one girl with the contagious laugh did. She noticed that sometimes all I do is think silently to myself and sometimes I can't stop jumping up and down. And she observed the vulnerability I seem to constantly display. And that I'm the weirdest human being on this large rock we call Earth.

Transform yourselves into mirrors and reflect the light you see in others. This place would be a dark world if no one could see the incandescence within them.

forgive the cheesy picture but it illustrates my point too well.