Excuse The Brevity....

Perhaps it's because Valentine's Day is quickly approaching, but lately I've been surrounded by love-hungry people discussing dating and the like. Yesterday afternoon I found myself, for the second day in a row, sitting in Mochas and Javas. The only differences were the company and the conversations that were going on (though I cannot admit to participating very much). Jessie and my newest aquaintance, Dawn, were talking about a certain mutual crush in ear shot, not only of me, but an older lady and a college boy Jessie had met on her trip to Mexico this weekend. As I sat, attempting to concentrate on my communication studies, I found myself interpreting the thoughts of the other two people not participating in this riveting dialog. Why is it that college seems to be another agonizing four (plus) years that simulate junior high and high school? Despite our desire to develop more meaningful relationships, we tend to continue our juvenile 'crush' mindset; granted, some people are immune to such tragedy. Anyhow, on to learn more about communication for three hours...excitement at it's peak!

Moonlight

Life rushed in through that window - or so it seemed. In reality, of course, life rushes from within, not from without. There is no work of art so big or so beautiful that was not once all contained in some youthful body, like the one which lay...in the moonlight, pulsing with ardor and anticipation.

~Willa Cather
Last night was much like every other night, until the point at which I aroused for my 8 am class. This morning my roommate told me about her experience of awakening at five in the morning to see me spotlighted by the moonlight, as though God himself was shining directly down on me. Alas, I can only imagine the natural beauty of such a rare vision. Though the moon is unlike the stars, which are most often romanticized, it does convey its own sense of mystery and captivating elegance. "The sun is glorious in one way, the moon is glorious in another way, and the stars are glorious in their own [distinctive] way; for one star differs from and surpasses another in its beauty and brilliance." ( 1 Corinthians 15:41) The beauty each star emits is much like the beauty each human being contains. The concept of beauty is so intangible, yet everyone comprehends it; however each person has their own concept of what it really is.

I've never found myself in the spotlight, neither figuratively nor literally, until this glorious occurrence. Perhaps the moonlight emitted some source of confidence to this quiet little girl today, but I found myself extremely talkative both in my English class and after encountering Megan (who seemed taken aback for one reason or another). I'd like to think that my ability to communicate has improved a lot this school year, since that would be my main goal for my life in general. Now that I've begun my second class on communication (why I'm doomed to repeat a class so similar to one I passed last year, I cannot fathom), I feel rather knowledgable on the principles of effective verbal and nonverbal messages; I need only apply them to my own interactions to make my speech a bit more effective. In training for life outside of college, I've begun to realize the power a single person can have on others' lives without even realizing it. Each person I have spoken with at least once has no doubt had an effect on my thoughts, speech, or actions. We are reflections of our own selves as much as we are of other people, much like the moon reflects the sun's radiance. In a sense, as Christians, we are to reflect God's image of love and grace. Like the moon, there are times when we do not fully exemplify Christ; yet, there are also periods like last night's full moon, in which his light radiates beyond all imagination to touch the lives of others.

Lovingly yours,

Anna

I believe in Christianity as I believe that the sun has risen: not only because I see it, but because by it I see everything else.
C. S. Lewis

What's My Age Again?

I'm currently six months and five days from my next birthday, one that I've heard is one of the most depressing. As the day approaches, questions of how I'll celebrate have arisen. Where will I be this summer? What will I be doing? Who's going to be with me that day? As much as I like to have something to think about, it would be wonderful to know some of the answers to these pressing questions. Since it's one of those "landmarks", it would be great to do something different from every other year. I considered travelling, but there's little appeal in that to someone who frequently travels to big cities. Then there's the suggestion to go clubbing; let's just leave that to the professionals, or people who like to get really drunk. As much as I'd love to do something with my friends, I don't know how that would work out - at all.
What I do depends on where I am as much as who's with me. I'd really love to go out to the east coast and party it up in what I still consider my hometown, but I forsee that plan falling through. Then there's the possibility of staying in San Marcos for a month or so in the house that I'd like to refer to as " The Completely Awesome House of Irresistable Texas State Girls". Assuredly, there will be a better title for our future place of residence, but the ultimate question is: will I stay there over the summer?
I used to think
I had the answers to everything
But now I know
Life doesn't always
Go my way, yeah...
Feels like I'm caught in the middle
That's when I realize...
I'm not a girl
Not yet a woman
All I need is time
A moment that is mine
While I'm in between
This past week has made me realize more things about myself, some of which I'd rather not go into detail, but I've definitely developed since the return to Texas State. I've become more aware of how much my life revolves around people more than anything and how easily disappointed I become when one person leaves my life. I became more assured of my own unique qualities on my date with Moriah; as self-conscious I am of my quietness, I've found that there are people who appreciate the characteristics you dislike about yourself. Being critical not only of your life, but others as well, tends to make life more depressing and pessimistic. It would be easier if we just rid ourselves of all anymosity and learned to live with the quirks others exhibit, much like that life-changing movie "Crossroads" illustrated.

Thursdays with Jessie

Promptly after my 8:00 class this morning, I headed over to the wide world of Commons dining hall in search of nourishment. Not long after sitting down, my phone rang; it was Jessie, asking me to breakfast with her. We had nearly one and a half hours to waste until our anthropology class began, entirely too much time for any American to finish one meal. After finishing breakfast/lunch, we walked out to the quad and discovered the most exciting challenge I've encountered in...well, maybe a day. The basketball team was handing out t-shirts to anyone who could make a freethrow. I take pride in my athletic abilities, but I attempted not to be so smug when I made it in one shot. What's better than watching other people after you (particularly the presumably skilled males) missing multiple times, or give up after a couple attempts?
Anyhow, I hate to cut this short, but I have a 'date' with Moriah in a few minutes. We've been trying to plan this since early December, so there is a heightened sense of excitement - but hey, it's Moriah, who wouldn't be happy to have some time with such an adorable girl?
Eternally yours,
Anna

A Minor Detail

After an hour of struggling with creating my new schedule, the idea of a minor popped into my head for some spontaneous reason. Perhaps it was the stress of actually fitting classes into my week, but this might not be the most insane move for me. After all, nutrition and anthropology are related in that both involve the study of human beings; the only question remaining is whether or not I’ll be ambitious enough to finish the eighteen hours required for the degree. After discussing graduation plans with a few people in the last twenty-four hours (my own excluded), I found out that I wouldn’t be the only one to graduate later than expected. Apparently, there is some attractiveness in being a “super senior” who has either had too little or too much ambition to successfully graduate.
Surprisingly, I have decided to stick with my eighteen hour week. At that rate I could have the chance of graduating early (or on time), but I know that certainly will not happen even with summer school. It's as though I'm pushing myself at the same time I'm pulling myself farther from the eventual goal of moving on from the college scene to what could be considered real life. It's my way of cramming six years into five, so that I will not become the lifetime college student. There are so many choices in life that could change everything, and I feel that one catalyst in my life would be to continue my studies with the intention of graduating with both a major and minor. There is always something I'll have left to learn. My grandmother, now 82, always tells me, "Learn one new thing every day...I never stop learning." This outlook on life is probably one of the main reasons for her continued good health; my father, the professor, shares the love of knowledge and displays his eagerness to learn by continuing with classes. I doubt I'll ever become proficient in four languages, but he is quite an inspiration.
The emotional tiredness, insanity, and frustration from schedule changes has subsided noticably now. Looking onward to the rest of the semester, I've decided to put aside the anxiety I could feel about a change in plans and just run with it.

Still learning,

Anna

A New Day, A New Semester

New beginnings and hope of another exciting semester...Today, marking the beginning of my 18-credit hour semester, has begun with mixed results. As I sort out the day, beginning with a native Texan algebra teacher and ending with a seat next to my friend Brian in the same classroom as last semester, I wonder what the remaining days of this semester have to offer. Change has become exhilarating to me after years of moving to different cities, three of which (including college towns) within one year. Brian, also a transfer student, has had the usual credit-transfer crisis although he's not from an out-of-state college. Of all reasons for not switching colleges again, I think both of us concur that being unable to graduate as planned due to conflicts with credit hours is the main deterrence from traveling the country in search of knowledge. It's unusual, when you transfer after one year, to actually stay at one school for two or three years. Don't get me wrong, Texas State is a beautiful university full of interesting and friendly individuals, but it feels as though I'm forcing myself to stay on the basis that I don't want to spend six or seven years working on one degree. (I just discovered my inability to create paragraphs, please bare with this blocky document.) An e-mail I received earlier today gave an interesting piece of advice: Live for the journey and not just the destination. The journey otherwise known as college should be lived in this way to some extent; it is much more enjoyable when you don't simply focus on graduating, but you can't stay in college without taking time to study and actually go to class. Or, if you like to transfer, you can't go from one school to the next for ten years. Sometime you need to need to acknowledge your need to move on to "the real world" either by graduating or just giving up and leaving. For instance, now that I've begun to hate the fact that I can't do the simple act of pressing enter to create a new paragraph, I will now give up in defeat.

Silent Killer

"Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that."-- Martin Luther King Jr.

After being home in San Marcos again, what better to do than attend a birthday party for a guy you don't know? I realize now that this has become a frequent occurrence in my life, for reasons I cannot explain. Last night, blending into early this morning, we were playing that riveting game known as "Murder in the Dark". I'd never played this before, but it was, indeed, painful. After becoming mildly disinterested with this game, I was 'killed' twice by the same murderer. Then I decided to fake interest and hide, only to be found again by a different murderer (Hroch, that sneaky little devil). A few people remarked that had I been the killer in one of the games, it would certainly have been frightening and mysterious. Considering that I was tripping over the couch and hitting a table, however, I highly doubt I would be the prime candidate for such a role.
This party for someone I hardly knew was extremely awkward for me in many ways. Looking around, I noticed that I knew practically no one in the room very well at all. I asked myself, "what am I doing here? It's almost 3 am and I need to actually wake up tomorrow morning so I can buy books, call Sandy, do some form of exercise..." My need to be surrounded by people was the only thing keeping me from running back to my dorm - that, and the fact that I had no idea in which direction to run. Why is it, though, that I love human interaction yet fear so much to speak sometimes? If there's one thing I could change in my life, it would be my lack of speech. I realize that not everyone can talk at the same time because no one would be heard, but it'd be infinitely better if I could be acknowledged as someone who has an opinion and comprehensible thoughts. Actually, I might dig myself into a hole if I give my opinions as frequently as most people. For instance, last night at dinner a girl decided to show us that she could put her fist into her mouth. If there's anything I find less impressive than a stupid comment, it's displaying certain abilities - especially at a meal. She didn't actually finish, which was a relief, but I'm sure I wasn't the only one left wondering whether or not she really could put her whole hand into her mouth.
I suppose my quietness is what made people assume that I'd be a great murderer in that horrifyingly boring game last night, but the fact that there was the faintest hint of light in every room would have given myself away as easily as it did everyone else. I was going to tie this in with the MLK quote above since it is that day upon which we reflect on his great victories in desegregation, but I'd rather not spend more time thinking about last night anymore. It's a new day and I have things that simply must be done.
Your quiet friend,
Anna

Sweet! Sixteen

Tomorrow marks a landmark in the life of one of the most influential males in my life. This January sixteenth my brother Erik will be turning sixteen years old! Not only is he my favorite brother (on the grounds that he is my only brother), he has become an amazing basketball player, charming ladiesman, and great companion. This past Wednesday I accompanied him to his youth group gathering because, let's face it, I had nothing better to do and I still look like a freshman in high school. Now that he's grown an inch taller than me, I think people have started wondering if we're dating, which is completely wrong but understandable since he is blond and I am...not.

This Christmas break I've also been fortunate enough to watch him play basketball, which has apparently become his sport of choice. He's developed into one of the best players, whereas he was short and commanded average skills on the court just a few years ago. I suppose that's why he gave up on basebell (my favorite sport); after all, it is better to have passion for what you're doing rather than go half-heartedly into each game. Since dropping the bat and glove, he's improved upon his dribbling and shooting skills. I must say, I'm extremely proud of my brother for being such a great team player, on court as much as off.

Erik is such an ideal brother because he exudes a confidence that spreads like wildfire; he's also very easy-going and talkative, two characteristics I tend to lack at times. He's been such a good example of what males should be viewed as which, in many ways, has helped me set high standards for my relationships. It's hard to believe he's almost four years younger than me when I consider how easily we can relate to each other. There's definitely something to be said for the brother-sister bond. The endless jokes, stories, German tutoring, and basketball practices. Speaking of jokes, my birthday present to my brother (because I am the family's bakery) was a cake and four chicks. No, not real chicks, fake plastic decorations that are typically used for cupcakes. It reminded me of Jessie's birthday cake because I lacked action figures (or awesome plastic cartoon characters), but that's another story from another time. Vielen Glueck zum sechszehnter Geburtstag, Erik!

The sister of an awesome younger bro,

Anna

Love Means Nothing?

And I've always dreamed

That love would be effortless

Like a petal fallin' to the ground

A dreamer followin' his dream

Looks like anti-Valentine's day is a go for yet another year! For those of you who have had significant others for quite a while now would not be able to identify with the anger and spite a single person feels towards couples when the dreaded V-day comes. Having just realized that it is a mere month from my future favorite 'holiday' and being fully inspired by some friends' recent stories, among other events, I have but one question: what ever happened to giving out valentines? Back in elementary school, everything was so simple. For those of you who had no interest in the opposite gender back then, it was even more simple. Give everyone in your class something with a heart on it on February 14th. Okay, okay, write their name and yours on it too, but really, it's got to be one of the easiest things; so why not keep that tradition after elementary school?

For those of you who do not follow tennis at all, here's something I just learned last night while watching "Wimbledon" : love means nothing. Don't get me wrong, I'm definitely a romantic at heart. In fact, my mom jokes that I was born liking boys, but there are times when I am greatful that I'm not in a relationship. I see people around me seeking love eagerly, only to end with a broken heart. The word "love" is used enough that it almost does mean nothing. A male attempting to make a female swoon says, "I love you," when he does not fully mean it. Or someone (especially myself) exclaiming, "I love [insert name/object]!" Our culture has ruined this beautiful, sacred word.

My brother remarked that girls shouldn't watch romance movies because they tend to build up fantasies about what love is like when, in actuality, it's nothing similar to what they imagine. Having him actually verbalize one of my own thoughts left me wondering whether I should watch any movies with love scenes ever again. It's so true though, girls fantasize about being in love...well, I shouldn't generalize that statement, I fantasize about being in love often. As great as it feels to not be attached to anyone, there is that longing for a partner that every living being has at one point or another. Nevertheless, Valentine's Day approaches and every person who is single braces themselves for the mess of PDA, chalky valentine candy, and bunches of heart cut-outs. Maybe instead of fearing this celebration of love, we should instead embrace it in hopes that we can someday enjoy it.

Still dreaming of Prince Charming,

Anna

Puzzles

On the surface, everything is in place while the inside has been completely jumbled. In light of my recent addiction, jigsaw puzzles, I came across possibly the best analogy for life. This Christmas, I took a 2500-piece of a waterfall home with me in hopes that it would be challenging enough for the last two weeks of vacation before returning to brave a new set of classes. Let me just say, this puzzle has taught me more than any other inanimate object ever has. A few thoughts on life, taught to me from a jigsaw puzzle:
~So many intricate pieces all fit together to create the whole; yet, when just one piece is missing, it is incomplete.
~Some pieces look very similar and may come close to fitting with another, but unless it's the right one it simply will not fit (so stop trying to make it fit!).
~Oftentimes, it will get hard and you may need to ask for help; another person's point of view can help immensely. It's also more enjoyable when you have someone else to share it with, even if they can't help much.
~Certain parts are easier to piece together than others; after that, the more complicated sections seem to come together a lot quicker.
~Sometimes you need to take pieces apart and reevaluate; perhaps you put them together in haste and need to reconfigure in order to ensure completion.
~It may seem like it'll never end, but you'll get there sooner than you think.
For those of you who are wondering, I'm not quite finished with the outside, but some inside pieces are coming together. Another analogy for my life? I continually ask myself, "why did I want to do this 2500-piece puzzle? It's torture!" Then I remember that I intended it to be fun and return to my quest of finishing it before I leave for college in a few days. Will it actually get done by then? God only knows; He is, after all, the finisher of all puzzles.
Your unfinished puzzle,
Anna

The Ayres Beneath My Wings

[Back by popular demand, my semi-exaggerated (at times) personal opinions on some helpless victim, er, friend/ family member.]

The most beautiful discovery true friends make is that they can grow separately without growing apart. ~Elisabeth Foley

Approximately eight years and four months ago, my life transformed into a more interesting, exciting journey. Having befriended the lankiest, tallest girl I know has been one of the best blessings I've ever received. Now that we're apart (for at least another half a year), Allison and I have surprisingly become two seperate entities. It's a heartbreaking feeling, not being able to talk to or see or touch your best friend whenever you wish; yet, that's how I've lived for about a year so far, and that's how it will remain until my college days are over.
Virginia native, wonderful sister, loving friend, and beautiful miracle that she is, I refuse to include a picture because that would go against the nature of Allison. Though I've grown to love the camera, she absolutely hates it when anyone photographs her. Thus, I will simply describe her: she reminds me of lead singer for Aerosmith, Steven Tyler, while almost everyone else thinks she looks like Jennifer Garner. Many people have asked her if she's ever thought of modeling, her answer is always a strong no. I don't understand how she can be so self-conscious and insecure about her body, but I'm in awe that a girl could wish to be bigger.
We're a funny pair, in that, she has always wished to be me and I've always wanted to trade places with her. When I admitted I'd love to be as tall and skinny as she is, she told me she'd always been jealous of me because I was shorter and "the perfect size". There were also times we'd have rather switched IQs, parents, "love lives", among other things. We'd laugh whenever someone would ask if we were twins, though now I doubt they were observing us purely based on physical appearances. Somehow we complement each other without being so completely opposite from one another; the secret to this remains a mystery to even me. Of course, the number of differences has now increased now that we're not sharing each other's lives, day in and day out. High school was the crazy glue that stuck us together, one keeping the other calm during times of insanity and confusion that is known as teenage life.
Now that all that is over and I've moved 1200 miles from her, I feel that life has become a lonely journey full of interesting characters. Texas, of all places. When I found out I had to move to another country, we both asked "why?" To this day, that answer is still left without a reasonable answer. One of Allison's favorite quotes is, "things happen for a reason, just believe." So I'm left believing; in what, I guess that God would mesh Virginia and Texas together somehow. Life without my partner in crime has been somewhat uneventful and dull, at times. I feel as though I've lost something, a huge part of me, my reason to wake up early in the morning and trudge to the bus stop with a 25 pound backpack on my shoulders.
Siamese twins, frick and frack, partners in crime, AA batteries and A&W rootbeer...we've had our share of differences, times when we were unsure that we'd even speak to each other again, but it was all worth it for the time we have shared and have yet to share.
Love,
Anna
"Here's to the nights we felt alive/Here's to the tears you knew you'd cry/Here's to goodbye/ Tomorrow's gonna come too soon"

Beauty, From One Beholding Eye to the Next

A few days ago, sitting in a dentist's office, I became aware of a new reality show in which I certainly could have been chosen for. After having discussed it with my mother, we both concluded that I would be the perfect candidate for the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Model search. The competition, after all, includes ditzy "beautiful" girls just like me. The only difference is that their facial features are strikingly unattractive, so much so that you can tell they were only chosen because of their lithe bodies. I found absolutely nothing about these models particularly amazing; had they not been so thin, they would have been average, everyday girls you'd meet on the street.
Now, if I had a wonderful makeup artist like the featured girl (who was interviewed merely because she hailed from Texas), I can only imagine how dazzling I'd appear on television. Considering I almost never wear makeup though, everyone I know should now be putting their imaginations to work. As for me in a slinky bikini, I'd advise that not much time be spent conguring up an image due to the fact that I'd rather be a bit more modest than that. Modesty would, in fact, be the main (if not only) reason for my defeat in such a riveting "reality" show. Whose reality is this anyway? Perhaps someone who lives in the Playboy mansion could attest to the genuine quality of the competition; however, most of the world does not live in swimsuits or model for the public. I find myself now digging myself deeper into a hole, because the next question would deal with modeling in private, and we're just not going to go there.
Body image is definitely an issue with many Americans these days. Thin people wishing they were lighter, large people thinking themselves average. It leaves you wondering exactly where you do fit in among everyone else. With that thought, I must leave for a change of attire as well as help in decorations before my sister's friends arrive.
Your beauty queen (swimsuit model),
Anna

The Magical World of Teeth: A Look From Inside A Dentist's Office

Today I had the pleasure of visiting my dentist, after a year of avoiding such pain and anguish. Sitting in the large, cushy chair with a lady hovering over me holding a tiny mirror in my mouth, I decided that dentistry is probably the worst field of work ever. Then I was reminded of my friend Nabil, whose aspiration is to become a dentist. (Naturally, his dream would be to become a doctor, however, that takes too many years of education and entirely too much money.) Amazingly enough, I had the privilege of discussing this topic with him today, among other things. I suppose everyone's different for that reason: because not everyone can become a doctor/actor/professional athlete.
What is the appeal of being a dentist though, really? Looking at teeth, injecting patients with anesthesia, filling cavities...I guess it's just too specific for me, as opposed to studying the entire human body. That, and who really wants to deal with people who forgot to brush before their appointment, or just never brushes their teeth at all? Never in my life would I dream of becoming a dentist. Doctor, maybe. Well, that's all I have for tonight folks, it's been real. Well, more real than the tooth fairy.
Your not-so-amused patient,
Anna

The Pain of Planning for the Future

Whatever you can do, or dream you can, begin it. Boldness has genius, power and magic in it.
-Goethe
Today I was again reminded of another option for the direction of my future. I received, among other letters and advertisements in the mail, not one but two invitations to join the Army. This is the fourth and fifth times that I have been presented with this wonderful and somewhat ideal opportunity, so I'm beginning to wonder if it's not such a crazy idea after all. It all began a few years ago when I was talking with my friend John, who is now enjoying his training at the Air Force Academy. He suggested that I join as well (a different branch, yes, I know) so I could receive free tuition, among various other reasons that I can no longer recall. He was convinced that I was physically able for such a challenge; I, however, felt a bit uneasy about such a decision. Having freshly moved from the DC area, it is no shock that most of my friends are in some branch of the military. Though the thought of a 9:1 ratio of males to females is quite inticing, intense training was extremely repulsive. After hearing about the opportunity to intern as a dietician in the Army, however, I've become more inclined to this possibility. Cooking and a multitude of men (in uniform, no less), what could be better? I'd still be forced to learn how to shoot a gun and receive a lighter version of training, but it would be quite an adrenaline rush.
Speaking of adrenaline and military force, I'd like to comment on "my" pastor's sermon from yesterday morning. This was the first time he'd ever addressed any current events, yet it was probably the worst sermon ever given by any preacher. Talk of the tsunami signaling the world's end has reached even the newscasters, he declared. Could this be the end of the world? After the posing of this question, I should have just stood up and left (run) out of the church; better yet, yell some remark and run out, yet I was patient. At the end of his absurd half hour talk on the world's end, someone should have gone up to him and said, "I hope the world does end just so I'm not forced to listen to another horrible sermon of yours". Having discussed this with my brother, who is nearly four years younger than me, he agreed that the sermon was definitely uncalled for. As every Christian knows, the end of the world will come "like a thief in the night", meaning no one will know it's coming. Hence, I wasted a good half hour yesterday morning listening to some old man preaching about something that obviously is not about to happen.
Phillip Yancey, in his book "Where is God When it Hurts?", addressed the debate on a similar natural disaster's impact on Earth. About typhoons he writes, "Bangladesh and India have learned painfully that the earth's climatic system depends on such major disturbances; in years that typhoons stay away, rains stay away as well." Yancey's become one of my favorite Christian theologians because he tends to take a different stance on topics while referring to his decades of research. I borrowed this particular book from a friend at JMU last year, but didn't have the chance to finish it before I had to give it back. At that time I was reading it because I felt the pain of loneliness, among other things; now I just find it fascinating, especially for those of you interested in the medical field. It's amazing to think of pain in another light, as something necessary to experience pleasure. For without the sensation of pain, we would be unable to also feel joy and happiness. Lepors lack this ability to suffer physical pain, which leads to much emotional pain. In that way, pain and pleasure are linked to such unfortunate people. As Socrates said, "How singular is the thing called pleasure and how curiously related to pain, which might be thought to be the opposite of it."
Your Future Army girl?,
Anna

Noerthern Exposure

Happy New Year! And what a wonderful new year it's been so far...my first few hours were spent in the beautiful midwestern city of Saint Louis with my cousins, aunt, uncle, immediate family, and my cousin Paul's best friend. At the age of about 17, this boy is alarmingly tall (I'd say about 6'4")! I guess this is somewhat of a secret, but I'm extremely attracted to tall people. A couple days after Christmas, my gandmother and I spent a good hour looking at pictures from my great-uncle who has recently passed away and we discovered the tallest, most lanky man I've ever seen. At least, that's how I perceive him from the many pictures I obtained during this little "trasure hunt". For those of you who also have a height fetish, I will be sharing these photos all in good time (in other words, when I get on a computer that allows me to upload photos).

This new year, having been mainly spent traveling great distances, raises the question of resolutions. Most people decide to attempt a weight loss or smoking cessation plan, but neither of these applies to me. I could stand to lose those normal "holiday pounds", but that'll come naturally, so I'm left on my own to create some magical New Year's resolution for myself that will probably never be accomplished simply on the basis that it is simply that: a New Year's resolution. Somewhere in that overwhelmingly state known as Missouri, within a few seconds, I decided on possibly the most obvious pledge for myself. That's right folks, I'm now determined to become more vocal. Eeek. Don't laugh too hard now, I'm actually serious about this one. I'm pretty sure that everyone who knows me has told me, "you're so quiet, why don't you talk louder/more?" I have to say, it's become somewhat of a personal trait of mine, but an annoying one at that. You can only take "say that again, I couldn't hear you" so many times before you want to explode. So yes, more talking, louder talking from the one person who tends to keep all emotions and thoughts inside, save blogging and e-mails. My friend Ann recently sent me one of those chain letters asking a bunch of personal questions; one was "when was the last time you cried?" To this one I replied something like, "I seriously can't remember, probably at my grandfather's funeral." That would have been about nine years ago, so I'm sure it's no wonder I asked myself "am I even human?" after discovering this. Truthfully, I did cry when I found out that my aunt has breast cancer, but that one was very short-lived. I hate being so emotionally exposed, especially in front of other human beings. This makes no sense, considering everyone has their own moments, but I just find it awkward to feel vulnerable in front of people. I'd hate to be perceived as the typical damsel in distress, overly dramatic stupid little girl who likes every cute boy who comes her way and cries because her friend doesn't want to hang out with her.
This coming from someone who nonchalantly undresses in cars in broad daylight, it may sound unusual that emotional exposure is one of the most dreaded experiences possible. As with the physical concept of modesty, it seems there is an emotional and mental sense of modesty as well. Divulging too much at once or to one person is extremely embarassing and debilitating. This is what I need to overcome within the next twelve months, which is dabatably the hardest oath to possibly fulfill. Ah, the new year, time to ring it in loud and clear.
Much love,
Anna